SANTA  BARBARA  STATE  COLLEGE  LIBRAR  Y 


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EWALD   FlUGEL 


LELAND  STANFORD  JUNIOR  UNIVERSITY  PUBLICATIONS 
UNIVERSITY  SERIES 


FLUGEL  MEMORIAL 
VOLUME 


CONTAINING   AN   UNPUBLISHED  PAPER 

BY  PROFESSOR  EWALD  FLUGEL,  AND 

CONTRIBUTIONS  IN  HIS  MEMORY  BY 

HIS  COLLEAGUES  AND  STUDENTS 


(WITH  PORTRAIT) 


STANFORD  UNIVERSITY,  CALIFORNIA 

PUBLISHED  BY  THE   UNIVERSITY 

I916 


Stanford  University 
Press 


o 


PREFACE 

THIS  Memorial  Volume,  consisting  of  articles  contributed  by  his 
colleagues  of  the  Philological  Departments,  has  been  prepared 
and  pubUshed  in  honor  of  Ewald  Flugel,  late  Professor  of 
English  Philology  in  Stanford  University,  in  accordance  with  a  resolution 
adopted  by  the  University  Philological  Association  December  lo,  1914. 

Editorial  Committee: 

H.  RusHTON  Fairclough,  Chairman, 
Karl  G.  Rendtorff, 
William  Dinsmore  Briggs. 


SA'NTA 


A.    V.' 


-o  -o 


v"A  STATE 


.  COLLEGE  LISRARY 


^(^/^^ 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


Portrait Frontispiece 

PAGE 

Preface   3 

Outline  of  Ewald  Flugel's  Life 7 


The  History  of  English  Philology 8 

Ewald  Flugel 

Dr.  Flugel  as  a  Scholar 36 

William  Dinsmore  Briggs 

Bibliography   49 


The  "Comedia  que  Trata  del  Rescate  del  Alma"  and  the 

"Gayferos"  Ballads   52 

Clifford  Gilmore  Allen 

"Cynthia's  Revels"  and  Seneca 59 

William  Dinsmore  Briggs 

Bryant's  "A  Presentiment"  and  Goethe's  "Der  Erlkonig"  ...       72 
William  Herbert  Carruth 

On  Shakespeare's  "Julius  Caesar" 76 

William  Chislett,  Jr. 

Literary  Sources  of  Goethe's  ''Urtasso" 79 

William  A.  Cooper 


The  Use  of  Stare  in  Horace  Satires  I,  9,  39  and  Juvenal  I, 

149    

Jefferson  Elmore 


table  of  contents  5 

Traditional  Ballads  from  Andalucia 93 

AuRELio  Macedonio  Espinosa 

The  Meaning  of  Caelum  in  the  Sixth  Book  of  the  "Aeneid"     io8 
Henry  Rushton  Fairclough 

The  Authorship  of  "Titus  Andronicus" 114 

Henry  David  Gray 

The  Hittite  Text  on  the  Tarcondemus  Boss 127 

George  Hempl 

A  New  Emotional  Effect  in  Tragedy 166 

Frank  E.  Hill 

The  Main  Source  of  Speech-Sounds  and  the  Main  Channels 

OF  their  Spread  ^79 

Hermann  Hilmer 

Notes  on  "Floire  et  Blancheflor" ^93 

Oliver  Martin  Johnston 

French  Culture  and  Early  Middle  English  Forms  of  Address     200 

Arthur  G.  Kennedy 

The  Life  of  Theocritus 2°^ 

Augustus  Taber  Murray 

The  Decay  of  German  Literature  in  the  Thirteenth  Century    220 

Karl  G.  Rendtorff 

Puns  in  Chaucer 

John  S.  P.  Tatlock 


EWALD  FLUGEL  was  born  in  Leipzig,  August  4, 
1863.  On  his  father's  side  he  came  of  a  line  of 
dictionary  makers;  his  mother's  family  had  con- 
tributed rectors  to  the  University  of  Leipzig.  He  passed 
through  the  Nicolai  School,  did  some  work  at  Freiburg, 
and  obtained  his  doctorate  at  Leipzig  in  1885.  In  1888  he 
married  Helene  Burckhardt,  and  five  children,  of  whom 
four  are  now  living,  were  born  of  this  marriage.  Dr. 
Fliigel  was  for  some  years  associated  with  his  father  in 
representing  the  Smithsonian  Institution  in  Germany. 
From  1888  to  1892  he  was  privatdocent  at  Leipzig,  and  in 
1892  became  professor  of  English  Philology  at  Leland 
Stanford  Junior  University.  In  1896  he  lectured  at  the 
summer  session  of  the  University  of  Chicago.  From  1901 
to  1902  he  was  President  of  the  Pacific  Coast  Branch  of 
the  American  Philological  Association;  and  in  1909  he 
represented  Stanford  University  at  the  celebration  of  the 
five-hundredth  anniversary  of  the  foundation  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Leipzig.  A  list  of  his  writings  and  an  account 
of  his  scholarly  activities  will  be  found  elsewhere  in  this 
volume.    He  died  in  Palo  Alto,  November  14,  1914. 


THE  ADDRESS  which  Dr.  Fliigel  made  in  1902  as  President  of  the 
Pacific  Coast  Branch  of  the  American  Philological  Association 
was  not  published,  except  in  the  form  of  an  abstract,  and  the 
Committee  in  charge  of  this  volume  thought  that  it  was  too  useful 
and  interesting  a  survey  of  the  history  of  Enghsh  Philology  to  be 
allowed  to  rest  unprinted.  Some  difficulty  was  experienced  in  preparing 
it  for  the  press,  and  a  brief  statement  of  the  method  adopted  seems 
necessary.  Apparently  Dr.  Fliigel  had  intended  eventually  to  publish  it, 
for  he  had  revised  the  first  few  pages  and  supplied  them  with  full  illus- 
tration. The  remainder  of  the  manuscript  contained  a  very  large  number 
of  marginal  annotations  as  hints  later  to  be  worked  out  more  elaborately; 
many  of  these  were  intelligible  only  to  Dr.  Fliigel  himself,  and  a  few 
could  not  be  deciphered.  Practically  all  of  them  have  been  omitted. 
Everything,  however,  that  could  properly  be  regarded  as  correction  of  the 
text  has  been  incorporated  into  it.  In  a  number  of  cases  incomplete 
sentences  have  been  filled  out,  and  occasionally  slight  changes  of  wording 
were  made  for  the  sake  of  clearness  of  statement,  but  real  ambiguities 
have  been  allowed  to  stand,  and  scrupulous  care  was  exercised  to  avoid 
changes  in  meaning.  Punctuation  and  capitalization  have  been  normal- 
ized and  the  liberty  has  been  taken  of  correcting  dates  whenever  the  mis- 
take was  obviously  due  to  hasty  writing  or  to  an  oversight.  Those  who 
undertook  this  task  were  not  unaware  of  the  grave  responsibility  they 
were  thus  assuming,  in  view  of  the  state  of  the  manuscript,  and  they  ask 
scholars  to  believe  that  the  work  could  not  well  have  been  done  otherwise, 
if  it  was  to  be  done  at  all.  They  ask  further  that  the  somewhat  informal 
character  of  the  address  be  borne  in  mind  by  readers,  and  that  it  be  not 
looked  on  in  its  present  shape  as  though  it  were  something  that  had  satis- 
fied Dr.  Fliigel's  own  instinct  of  workmanship.  What  great  changes  and 
additions  he  would  himself  have  made  before  pubUcation  may  be  conjec- 
tured, from  a  comparison  of  the  first  three  pages  with  those  that  follow.^ 


^  It  may  also  be  noted  that  Dr.  Fliigel  had  indicated  in  the  margin  of  his 
manuscript  certain  names  omitted  from  the  first  draft  of  his  address,  which  he 
evidently  intended  to  add  and  discuss  in  connection  with  the  appropriate  topics. 
These  include  Bradley  (for  the  Oxford  Dictionary),  Henry  Bradshaw,  Blades 
(Life  of  Caxton),  Boas  (edition  of  Kyd),  Herford,  Symonds,  Sedgwick  (Boethius), 
Courthope,  Schelling  (Elizabethan  Drama),  Pogatscher,  Schick  (Lydgate),  Schipper 
(Dunbar),  Creizenach,  Holthausen,  and  Brandl. 


THE  HISTORY  OF  ENGLISH  PHILOLOGY 

EWALD   FlUGEL 

THE  ORIGIN  of  English  Philology  is  to  be  sought  for  in  the  time  of 
the  Reformation;  in  that  age  which  gave  birth  to  the  modern 
critical  spirit,  in  that  age  in  which  for  the  first  time  after  centuries 
of  passive  obedience  the  mind  of  man  dared  to  seek  the  truth  unhampered 
by  ecclesiastical  injunctions  and  prohibitions.  The  religious  emancipa- 
tion of  the  sixteenth  century  is  the  cradle  of  the  new  world  of  thought, 
and  the  cradle  of  the  Historical  Sciences  as  Sciences. 

I  can  dismiss  with  a  few  words  the  earlier  history  of  English  Phil- 
ology before  the  Reformation. 

Mediaeval  England  was  less  fortunate  than  Italy:  there  was  no 
Dante  who  regarded,  first  among  the  moderns,  the  study  of  the  mother- 
tongue  a  worthy  object  of  observation,  of  research. 

Orrm's  orthographical  system  might  be  mentioned,  and  the  few 
allusions  to  the  English  language  from  the  twelfth  to  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury. These  show  us  no  more  than  that  certain  dialectical  differences  be- 
tween the  North  and  the  South  were  noticed  as  early  as  William  of 
Malmesbury-  and  Roger  Bacon, ^  that  the  native  poetry  appeared  'pom- 
pous'to  the  same  William,*  that  the  'scheme'  of  'annomination'  was  noticed 
by  Giraldus  Cambrensis,^  that  the  struggle  between  the  EngUsh  and  the 
French  languages  on  English  soil  was  critically  and  sorrowfully  watched 
by  patriots  like  Robert  of  Gloucester,  and  more  fully  recognized  and 
commented  upon  by  Higden  and  Trevisa. 

Other  allusions  show  us  that  a  'Saxon'  version  of  the  Bible,  attri- 
buted to  Bede,  was  known  to  Wycliffe,®  that  Chaucer,  such  a  fine  linguist 
and  careful  observer  of  things  and  men,  who  recognized  Italian  as  'a 

'  Gesta  Pontif.  Angl.,  Lib.  iii,  ed.  Hamilton,  1870,  209. 

''  Comp.  Stud.  467 :  modi  et  proprietates  loquendi  ut  in  Anglia  apud  Boreales, 
et  Australes,  et  Orientales  et  Occidentales.  B.  has  more  to  tell  of  the  French  lan- 
guage, ib.  438,  483  (515),  etc.;  cf.  E.  Fliigel,  R.  Bacon's  Stellung  in  der  Geschichte 
der  Philologie,  Wundt  Festschrift,  1902. 

*  Gesta  Reg.  Angl.,  Lib.  i,  §31,  ed.  Hardy  1840;    I,  44. 

*  Descr.  Cambr. 

*  Bede  translatide  the  bible  and  expounide  myche  in  Saxon,  that  was  English 
or  comoun  langage  of  this  lond  in  his  tyme,  Prol.  in  Forshall  &  Madden's  ed. 
1850;   I,  59. 


10  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

maner  Latyn  corrupt,'  ^  who  speaks  of  the  fashionable  charms  of  lisping 
before  Hamlet,*  that  Chaucer  recognized  the  'grete  diversitee  in  Englishe 
and  in  writyng  of  our  tongue,'  ^  translates  Horace's  famous  passage 
on  the  words  like  leaves,  and  chronicles  sorrowfully  the  'scarcite'  of 
rimes  in  English — when  he  had  to  translate  Oton  de  Granson.^" 

It  is  towards  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century  that  we  find  an  editor 
engaged  in  carefully  comparing  English  manuscripts  for  what  we  might 
call  the  first  critical  edition  of  a  native  author:  this  is  Caxton,  and  the 
edition  is  the  second  one  of  the  Canterbury  Tales,  in  which  he  "endevoyred 
to  correct  the  text  that  it  bee  made  according  unto  his  owen  making, 
for  to  satisfy  the  auctour." 

It  was  the  love  of  Chaucer,  then,  which  produced  the  first  English 
textual  critic,  and  this  fact  is  important  for  the ,  following  centuries.  It 
is  Chaucer's  text,  and  the  endeavor  to  keep  it  intelligible  and  accessible, 
which  ultimately  leads  to  a  revival  of  Middle  English  studies. 

When  we  approach  the  sixteenth  century  we  find  the  interest  in  the 
study  of  English  language  and  literature  alive  and  active  in  a  number  of 
different  fields. 

First  of  all,  it  is  the  antiquarian,  patriotic,  and  historical  interest  in 
English  antiquities  which  inspires  John  Leland  to  collect  materials  for  a 
chronological  work  on  English  writers."  Leland's  work  on  these  was 
to  be  only  one  part  of  a  greater  work  on  English  antiquities,  geographical 
and  historical ;  it  was  never  finished,  and  his 

'supellex 
Ingens,  aurea,  nobilis,  venusta 
Qua  totus  studeo  Britanniarum 
Vero  reddere  gloriam  nitori' — ^^ 


'  MoL.  V.  519  (cf.  731)  ;  cf.  Wycl.,  loc.  cit. :  the  comoun  peeple  of  Italic  spekith 
Latyn  corrupt,  as  trewe  men  seyn,  that  have  ben  in  Italie. 

'  Cf.  Anglia,  N.  R,  XII,  471. 

*Troil.  5,  1793;  the  charming  transformation  of  Horace's  words,  ib.  2,  21, 
do  not  apply  to  our  point. 

"  Compl.  Venus,  80 ;  the  other  references  to  'his'  English  scarcely  apply : 
MoL,  Pro!.  49;   Duch.  898. 

"The  four  books  into  which  he  intended  to  divide  the  work  were  to  cover 
the  periods :  I,  from  the  Druids  to  the  Coming  of  Augustine ;  II,  from  Augustine 
to  the  Normans ;  III,  from  the  Normans  to  Henry  VII ;  IV,  the  time  of  Henry 
VIII ;  cf.  The  Laboryouse  Journey  in  Fliigel's  Lesebuch  I,  278-9.  The  materials 
for  his  Commentarii  de  Scriptoribus  Britannicis,  as  they  were  edited  by  Ant.  Hall, 
Oxford,  1709,  come  to  an  end  with  the  fifteenth  century.  The  Chaucer  note  transl. 
by  Lounsbury,  I,  133  ff. 

"Ad  Thomam  Cranmerum,  in  Principum,  &c.,  Encomia,  ed.  1589,  p.  90 
(Collectanea  5,  149;    Fliigel's  Lesebuch  I,  514). 


HISTORY   OF   ENGLISH    PHILOLOGY FLUGEL  II 

of  which  he  sings  so  charmingly,  proudly,  and  sadly,  fell  after  his  tragic 
end  into  the  hands  of  more  or  less  scrupulous  executors,  later  into  the 
possession  of  moth  and  mould,  and  was  not  made  accessible  before  the 
beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century." 

It  would  be  unjust  to  severely  criticise  these  collections,  which  as 
they  are  seem  a  rather  large  but  uncritical  accumulation  of  facts  and 
fiction, — the  raw  material  from  which  the  critical  hand  would  have  select- 
ed the  valuable  from  the  slight. 

Bale  utilized  Leland's  collections  for  his  great  storehouse,  the  'Cata- 
logus/^^  and  seasoned,  in  the  printed  editions,  his  numberless  biographies 
with  the  bitter  salt  of  protestant  bigotry.  His  biographies  and 
bibliographies  represent  the  crude  beginning  of  English  literary  his- 
tory; they  are  chronologically  arranged,  and  become  valuable  when  he 
reaches  the  period  of  the  Reformation.  There  is  no  connection  given 
between  the  writers,  no  literary  movements  traced,  any  more  than  in 
Holinshed's  work,  who  is  his  follower  and  might  be  called  the  first  liter- 
ary historian  in  the  vernacular.^°~^^ 

With  Leland  might  be  grouped  those  earlier  patriotic  printers  of 
Chaucer  and  Gower,  Thynne,  Berthelot,  and  Tooke,  to  whom  the  old 
'vulgar'  became  the  object  of  interest  and  quite  careful  study;  they  tried 
to  explain  the  forgotten  'idioms'  and  to  re-establish  the  metre,  generally 
by  some  easy  trick  of  a  verbal  change. 

Another  source  of  interest  in  the  literary  treasures  of  the  past  was 


"On  the  sad  history  of  the  Leland  MSS.  cf.  the  Lives  of  John  Leland,  The. 
Hearne,  and  A.  a  Wood  (by  Warton  and  Huddesford),  Oxford,  1772;    I,  50  flF. 

"  Ed.  1548,  in  4",  has  the  title :  Illustrivm  |  Maioris  Britanniae  |  Scriptorvm  .  .  . 
Summarium;  the  second  edition,  in  folio,  published  in  1557:  Scriptorvm  II  | 
lustriu  maioris  Brytannie,  quam  |  nunc  Angliam  &  Scotiam  uocant:  Ca|  talogus,  &c 
[Basileae,  Apud  loannem  Oporinum,  containing  Centuriae  I  to  IX;  Centuriae  X 
to  XIV  appeared  ib.  I559]- 

"H.,  ed.  1586,  gives  these  brief  literary  accounts  of  "learned  men,"  "writers" 
(3,  541;  710)  at  the  end  of  the  different  reigns;  he  'knits  up,'  to  use  the  phrase 
from  p.  1589,  "the  seuerall  reigne  of  euerie  seuerall  King  with  a  generalitie  of  the 
seuerall  writers  in  that  princes  reign";  he  begins  with  Stephen,  3,  64,  and  quotes 
the  names  generally  from  Bale,  occasionally  from  Leland;  cf.  116;  156;  196;  276; 
317;  342;  413;  508;  541  (on  Chaucer,  from  Bale  and  Leland);  584;  662;  710; 
761;  797;  977;  1087;  1168;  for  Elizabeth's  reign,  Fr.  Thynne,  unfortunately, 
does  not  give  the  usual  list,  but  a  'Catalog  of  all  such  as  haue  purposelie  in  seuerall 
histories  of  this  realme  .  .  .  written  of  England  and  English  Matter,'  p.  1589 
(cf.  Thynne's  Animaduersions,  ed.  Furnivall,  Ixxxix)  ;  Edmund  Molineux  con- 
tributed the  interesting  account  of  the  Sidneys,  containing  the  earliest  allusion  to 
the  Arcadia,  immediately  after  Sir  Philip's  death,  fol.  1554. 

"The  revised  portion  of  Dr.  Fliigel's  MS.  ends  at  this  point. 


12  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

the  theological  one,  an  interest  to  which  we  owe  the  first  revival  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  studies.  The  fact  that  their  Anglo-Saxon  forefathers  had  pos- 
sessed the  Bible  in  their  own  language,  known  to  Wycliff,  became  again 
a  leading  argument  of  the  early  reformers,  such  as  Tyndal  and  Cranmer ; 
Langland's  poem  was  re-edited  in  1550  for  theological  party-purposes, 
and  Chaucer  himself  became  a  model  protestant  under  the  treatment  of 
Foxe  the  martyrologist,  "a  man  who  had  seen  into  religion." 

Anglo-Saxon  Christianity  became  an  object  of  interest, — not  only  its 
Bible  but  its  dogmatical  attitude  towards  the  Eucharist,  towards  the  mar- 
riage of  priests,  etc.  The  Pre-Augustinian  Church  seemed  to  lead  the 
way  in  its  hostility  to  Augustine's  Roman  doctrines ;  Archbishop  Parker, 
1504-75,  became  the  center  of  Anglo-Saxon  studies,  and  kept  in  his  own 
house  "of  them  which  do  well  understand  Anglo-Saxon  books"  (1566)  ; 
his  son  learned  Anglo-Saxon;  Joscelyn,  his  secretary  from  1558  on,  com- 
piled, as  Noel  did  likewise  in  1567,  an  Anglo-Saxon  dictionary  ;  he  quoted 
Anglo-Saxon  in  1562;  and  others  edited  the  earliest  work  printed  in 
Anglo-Saxon  letters  (Aelfric's  Easter  Sermon,  1566),  followed  by  the 
most  pretentious  Anglo-Saxon  publication  of  the  sixteenth  century,  the 
Gospels,  edited  by  John  Fox,  1571. 

The  antiquarian  names  of  these  early  Anglo-Saxon  scholars  and  their 
work  have  to  us  an  almost  romantic  charm,  and  we  shouldn't  like  to  hunt 
for  the  lower  motives  of  them :  for  instance,  Lawrence  Nowel,  and  Lam- 
barde,  the  editor  of  the  Laws  in  1568. 

The  continent  of  Europe  did  very  little  during  the  sixteenth  century 
that  might  figure  in  a  history  of  the  English  language.  The  conversa- 
tion books  do  not  belong  here;  they  were  translated  from  continental 
sources  by  Englishmen,  and  their  object  was  the  teaching  of  French. 

Gesner  the  Polyhistor  mentions  in  his  Mithridates,  1555,  the  cor- 
ruption of  the  English  language  through  foreign  words;  he  gives  even 
samples  of  Anglo-Saxon  words  from  a  MS.  of  Bede,  words  which  were 
omitted  from  the  older  editions  of  Bede's  works  after  1473.  He  pre- 
cedes in  this  respect  the  first  reproduction  in  type  of  Anglo-Saxon  words 
in  England,  but  apart  from  this  slight  honor,  his  remarks  on  the  EngHsh 
language  are  of  no  original  value.  The  English  protestant  refugees, 
scattered  all  over  Germany  during  the  Marian  persecutions,  had  appar- 
ently introduced  their  German  friends  to  a  question  which  was  then 
deeply  agitating  the  hearts  of  the  English  patriots:  the  question  of  the 
admixture  of  foreign  words  with  the  native  stock. 

This  popular,  patriotic  question  produced  one  interesting  philological 
result :  it  led  to  the  historical  study  of  the  origin  and  development  of  the 


HISTORY    OF   ENGLISH    PHILOLOGY FLUGEL  13 

English  tongue  as  we  have  it  in  W,  Harrison's  chapter  on  the  language 
of  England,  1586,  G.  Puttenham's  Books  of  the  Originals  of  the 
English  Tongue,  before  1589,  Camden's  Remains,  1605,  and  Verstegan's 
Restitution. 

Of  equal  interest  with  these  first  attempts  at  'Histories  of  the  Lan- 
guage' is  the  first  detailed  critical  review  of  an  English  book  (unique  in 
its  kind),  Thynne's  animadversions,  1599,  on  Speght's  edition  of  Chaucer, 
1598,  an  edition  which  did  not  quite  tally  with  Thynne's  ideal  of  having 
a  Chaucer  "with  a  Comment  in  his  tongue  as  the  Italians  have  Petrarke," 
but  which  is  otherwise  a  good  specimen  of  an  early  edition.  The  text 
is  corrupt  (as  Thynne  shows  very  neatly),  although  it  claims  to  be  col- 
lated, and  the  few  grammatical  explanations  are  an  index  of  the  low  ebb 
of  philological  studies;  but  the  glossary  is  very  full  and  intelhgent, 
and  the  biography  excellent.  The  whole  is  charmingly  introduced  by 
Francis  Beaumont  of  Godescote,  the  namesake  of  the  dramatist. 

A  practical  result  of  these  Chaucer  studies  was  the  resuscitation  of 
the  old  language  as  a  living  literary  tongue,  as  in  Spenser's  unsuccessful 
but  certainly  interesting  attempt. 

The  Elizabethan  age  witnessed,  further,  the  earliest  movement  for 
an  orthographical  reform,  headed  by  Sir  Thomas  Smith,  1568,  by  Hart, 
and  BuUokar ;  but  the  English  language  did  not  yet  become  the  object 
of  grammatical  treatment :  word-accent  and  sentence-accent  are  spoken  of 
by  Bacon,  and  a  philosophical  grammar  is  one  of  his  desiderata,  but  what 
he  calls  the  litteraria  grammatica  has  to  wait  for  Gil,  1619,  and  Ben 
Jonson  (about  1620). 

Since  the  eighth  century  English  lexicography  had  had  only  one  aim 
—to  assist  in  the  understanding  of  a  foreign  author;  the  foreign  idiom 
generally  leads,  and  often  the  words  are  arranged  in  groups  of  kindred 
senses.  This  latter  arrangement  is  discontinued  after  Withal's  Short 
Dictionary,  1556,  and  the  meager  Usts  of  the  Promptorium,  the  Summa, 
give  place  to  Elyot's  great  work  in  1538,  often  edited  in  the  course  of 
the  sixteenth  century  and  easily  leading  such  school  books  as  Baret's 
Aluearie,    1574,   and   Quadruple,    1581,    and   Veron's    Dictionary,    1575 

(ti563).  ,  . 

French  dictionaries  follow  the  Latin  ones ;  Palsgrave  s  great  word- 
lists  yield  a  wonderful  source  of  colloquial  English  of  the  Early  Tudor 
Age,  1530.  Salisbury's  Welsh  Dictionary  appears  in  1547,  and  Thomas's 
Italian  grammar  with  a  dictionary  in  1550;  later  in  the  century  we  have 
Percyvale's  Bibliotheca  Hispanica,  1591,  Florio's  World  of  Wordes,  1599, 
and  Cotgrave's  great  storehouse  of  Elizabethan  phraseology.     But  the 


14  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL   VOLUME 

aim  of  all  these  dictionaries  is  to  illustrate  a  foreign  idiom, — they  are  not 
English  dictionaries. 

In  the  Elizabethan  age  we  have  further  to  mention  some  timid  be- 
ginnings of  literary  criticism,  contained  in  the  allusions  to  the  English 
authors  in  the  writings  of  'critics,'  the  lists  of  Meres,  the  epigrammatic 
characterizations  of  Daniel,  etc.  Scotland  is  not  behind :  we  might  men- 
tion the  patriotic  outburst  of  the  author  of  the  Complaint  of  Scotland, 
Buchanan's  De  Scriptoribus  Scoticis,  1 595-1652,  the  early  reprints  of 
Wallace,  1574,  Thomas  the  Rhymer,  1603,  Barbour,  1620,  and  others. 

But  all  these  movements  of  the  sixteenth  century  are  the  merest 
rudimentary  beginnings,  and  the  seventeenth  centur}^  follows  like  the 
dawn  after  the  night ;  an  age  comes  in  which  we  find  the  first  great  names 
in  the  Historical  Science.  It  is  the  age  of  Selden,  1 584-1654,  Spelman, 
1564-1641,  Somner,  1598-1669,  Dugdale,  1605-86,  Skinner,  1623-67,  Jun- 
ius, 1589-1677,  WalHs,  and  Hickes. 

Junius  is  the  best  known  of  these,  and  indeed  the  most  eminent 
scholar  and  man  of  this  little  group,  his  work  influencing  and  inspiring 
scholars  for  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  after  his  death.  His  editions 
of  William,  Caedmon,  Ulphilas,  his  enormous  Glossarium  Quinque  Lin- 
guarum  in  nine  volumes,  at  which  he  used  to  work  on  so  many  desks  to 
his  ninetieth  year,  are  well  known;  but  not  sufficiently  noticed  are  his 
services  to  Middle  English  studies,  the  results  of  which  are  partly  given 
in  his  Etymological  Dictionary,  and  partly  still  buried  in  his  Chaucer 
MSS.  at  Oxford.  He  is  also  to  be  mentioned  as  the  first  philological 
inquirer  into  the  Scottish  Dialect. 

Sir  Henry  Spelman  marks  an  epoch  in  Anglo-Saxon  antiquarian 
studies;  his  Archceologus,  1626,  is  the  first  Anglo-Saxon  glossary  ever 
published  of  terms  belonging  to  the  legal  antiquities,  and  it  is  admirable 
and  useful  for  our  own  time. 

With  his  'Councils,'  commenced  when  "he  was  aged  and  almost 
blind,"  he  practically  inaugurated  for  England  a  new  historical  study. 
His  edition  of  laws  'from  William  to  Henry  IIF  has  remained  the  only 
one  to  our  own  time ;  his  foundation  of  a  "lecture  at  Cambridge,  of  domes- 
tick  antiquities  touching  our  church,  and  reviving  the  Saxon  tongue" 
(1638),  was  the  first  academic  recognition  of  Anglo-Saxon. 

Stephen  Skinner  is  least  appraised  and  appreciated  of  all  these  men ; 
the  history  of  Germanic  philology  treats  him  with  utter  silence,  and  when 
he  is  mentioned  at  all,  his  work  is  mentioned  as  the  source  of  Johnson's 
wrong  etymologies  and  his  ghost  is  still  seen  in  the  earlier  editions  of 
Webster. 


HISTORY   OF   ENGLISH    PHILOLOGY FLUGEL  I5 

He  was  a  physician  by  his  profession,  one  who  did  not  enjoy  the 
smell  of  the  'matuls'  all  the  time,  and,  as  he  tells  us  humorously,  instead 
of  seeking  relaxation  in  dicing  and  drinking,  he  condescended  from  his 
medical  altitude  (descendere  dignatus  sum)  and  took  to  etymologizing. 
He  thinks  few  things  can  better  prepare  a  physician  for  a  'prognosis'  than 
etymology,  because  there  is  a  peculiar  link  of  affinity  between  the  two, 
practical  medicine  not  being  based  on  demonstration  but  on  conjecture 
alone, — and  what  else  is  etymology  but  a  heap  of  splendid  conjectures? 
Utrobique  divinamus,  etc.     With  a  strange  mixture  of  humor  and  seri- 
ousness he  describes  that  queer  creature  the  philologist  (criticus),  who 
despises  the  obvious  things  (obvia  quaeque)  et  nihil  probat  nisi  in  quo 
ipse  desudaverit,  who  like  a  mole  digs  with  his  snout  in  the  ground,  et 
vocabula  multis  iam  seculis  emortua  suis  sepulcris  effodit.    These  things 
he  uses  as  his  sweetmeats,  their  rust  and  mould  for  frankincense,  despis- 
ing all  the  spices  of  India,  Musck,  Ambra,  Benzoin.     He  would  prefer 
to  hear  the  hoarse  talk  of  the  Osci,  Volsci,  and  Sabini  to  an  oration  of 
Cicero  in  the  Senate,  and  no  dinner-party  would  be  more  glorious  to  him 
than  the  one  exhibiting  the  Persian  of  Aristophanes  and  the  Poenus  of 
Plautus.     As  the  juggler  throws  his  balls,  so  he  enjoys  throwing  about 
the  letters;  those  which  you  saw  just  now — have  disappeared,  but  they 
reappear  multiplied;  and  those  letters  which  you  thought  you  could  lay 
your  fingers  on,  are  gone,  and  others  substituted  so  quickly  that  your  eyes 
cannot  follow  him.    As  the  sailor  can  steer  his  ship  as  long  as  there  is 
any  wind  blowing  at  all,  so  will  our  illustrious  sophist  arrive  at  some  ety- 
mology as  long  as  he  can  get  the  support  of  any  one  of  the  decern  ele- 
menta,  while  all  the  others  are  transformed  by  a  more  than  Circean  skill 
and  drawn  into  his  service  by  hook  and  by  crook  (per  fas  nefas).    And 
as  soon  as  the  rain  has  produced  a  pool  on  the  dust,  the  summer  sun  will 
produce  in  it  the  croaking  frogs.     Is  he  not  a  most  skilful  artifex  who 
can  carve  a  Mercury  out  of  any  wood?    His  sense  of  humor  is  exempli- 
fied by  his  motto  from  Quintilian,  and  crops  up  here  and  there  when  he 
speaks  of  the  bellum  implacabile  which  the  consonants  seem  to  wage  one 
with  the  other  in  certain  languages.     But  I  am  not  giving  a  history  of 
English  humor,  and  ought  to  return  to  his  services  to  EngHsh  etymology. 
They  consist  in  the  establishing  of  what  he  calls  an  Etymological  Canon" 
of  the  different  well  arranged  Affectiones  Literarum,  and  an  excellent 
table  of  sound  changes  in  English  (transmutationes  seu  metaplasmi  liter- 
arum).     It  is  here  that  we  find  equations  which  are  perfectly  sound,  it 

"The  idea  of  a  law  was  ridiculed  by  M.  Casaubonus  and  entirely  absent  from 
Junius'  work. 


l6  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

is  here  that  we  find  for  the  first  time  a  systematic  and  full  arrangement 
of  such  facts. 

It  is  in  his  Prolegomena  Etymologica  that  we  find  equations  estab- 
lished of  'cognate  letters  which  interchange':  B,  V ;  D,  T ;  S,  T;  B,  F. 
Quite  important  are  his  remarks,  earliest  in  point  of  time,  and  true  to  our 
own  time,  on  word-history,  and  changes  of  meaning;  he  established 
even  a  Semasiological  Canon.  Equally  good  are  his  remarks  on  popular 
etymology,  with  a  few  examples  aptly  chosen.  He  is  a  patriot,  and  in 
that  chapter  on  the  history  of  foreign  words  in  English  he  sides  with 
the  Saxonists  of  the  sixteenth  century:  it  is  an  absurda  kakozelia  which 
has  allowed  so  many  old  and  elegant  and  emphatic  words  to  fall  into  dis- 
use. He  is  not  in  favor  of  far-fetched  etymologies  from  Persian  and 
Hebrew. 

From  the  timid  beginnings  of  orthographic  reform  in  the  sixteenth 
century  a  movement  had  started  in  favor  of  phonetic  writing  (Gill's 
Logonomia,  1621,  Butler's  Grammar,  1634)  ;  but  a  truly  new  start  was 
taken  by  John  Wallis,  the  mathematician,  who  produced  in  1653  the  first 
work  on  the  physiological  genesis  of  the  English  sounds  (following  sixty- 
seven  years  after  Mathise  had  created  this  new  discipline  in  1586, 
unknown  to  Wallis).  Wallis's  study  of  articulate  sound  is  epoch-making, 
as  much  so  as  Bishop  Wilkins'  Essay  towards  a  Real  Character,  And  a 
Philosophical  Language,  1668,  which  became  the  foundation  of  phonog- 
raphy (and  is  well  known  through  Techmer's  reprint).  The  first  careful 
observer  of  linguistic  phenomena  as  represented  in  English,  Wallis  is 
followed  by  William  Holder,  Elements  of  Speech,  1669,  and  it  is  inter- 
esting to  note  the  practical  and  successful  application  of  their  phono- 
logical discoveries  to  the  teaching  of  the  deaf  and  dumb. 

Before  we  can  touch  the  fourth  great  master  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  George  Hickes,  we  should  at  least  describe  a  number  of  brooks 
which  at  later  periods  were  destined  to  become  respectable  streams. 

The  earliest  works  in  English  lexicography  proper  are  to  be  chroni- 
cled from  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century, — books  devoted  to 
the  explanation  of  "hard  words."  The  English  language  was  proving  a 
strange  tongue  even  for  a  good  "Hebrician  Grecian  and  Latinist  who 
might  be  to  seek  in  the  Italian,  French  or  Spanish" ;  it  was  a  time  when  a 
new  "world  of  words"  was  brought  home  by  every  traveler,  when  many 
made  "it  their  study  to  be  learned  in  our  own  language,"  and  so  "for  the 
more-knowing  Women,  and  less-learned  Men,  or  indeed  for  all  such  of  the 
illiterate  who  can  but  find  in  an  Alphabet  the  word  they  understand  not," 
'Tables  Alphabeticall  of  Hard  Words'  became  necessary.     The  earliest 


HISTORY    OF   ENGLISH    PHILOLOGY FLUGEL  I7 

of  these  was  compiled  by  Robert  Cowdry,  1604,  followed  by  Bullokar's 
An  English  Expositor,  1616,  Cockeram's  Dictionary,  1623,  and  by  the  most 
ambitious  one,  Blount's  Glossographia,  1656,  which  included  even  Saxon 
words  "growing  every  day  more  obsolete  than  the  other,"  and  having  a 
feature  new  and  marking  an  innovation  of  great  importance:  Blount 
adds,  sparingly  to  be  sure,  quotations:  "To  many  of  which  [words]  I 
have  added  the  Authors  names,  that  I  might  not  be  thought  the  innovator 
of  them."  Blount  has  good  etymologies ;  he  does  not  become  "the  advo- 
cate for  the  use  of  such  words"  as  he  treats  (cf.  Skinner's  assault  on  Min- 
shew)  ;  he  merely  chronicles  them,  letting  "every  ones  genius"  be  "their 
own  Dictator." 

At  the  side  of  these  lexicographical  works  should  at  least  be  men- 
tioned the  attempts  to  prepare  a  pragmatical  grammar  before  Wallis : 
Charles  Butler,  1633;  GsLtaker's  De  Dipthongis  Bivocalibns,  1646;  Owen 
Price's  English  Orthographic,  1668;  Thomas's  Milk  for  Children,  1654; 
Cooper's  Grammatica,  1685 ;  and  the  most  interesting  one,  published 
1640  (two  years  after  his  death),  "The  English  Grammar  made  by  Ben 
Johnson.  For  the  benefit  of  all  strangers,  out  of  his  observation  of  the 
English  language  now  spoken  and  in  use."  The  Preface  states  his  pur- 
pose :  "the  profit  of  Grammar  is  great  to  Strangers  who  are  to  live 
in  communion  and  commerce  with  us,  and  it  is  honourable  to  ourselves, 
for  by  it  we  communicate  all  our  labours,  studies,  profits,  without  an 
interpreter.  We  free  our  language  from  the  opinion  of  rudeness  and 
barbarism,  wherewith  it  is  mistaken  to  be  diseased :  we  shew  the  copy  of 
it,  and  matchableness  with  other  tongues ;  w^e  ripen  the  wits  of  our  own 
children  and  youth  sooner  by  it  and  advance  their  knowledge." 

In  grammar  not  so  much  the  invention  as  the  disposition  is  to  be 
commended.  Sense  and  experience,  observation,  are  introduced  in  his 
raw  draft  of  a  preface  as  the  important  correctives.  J.  C.  Scaliger's 
ominous  word  presides  over  it:  Grammatici  unus  finis  est  recte  loqui  (  !). 
An  elaborate  account  of  the  sounds  of  'letters'  begins,  full  of  quotations 
from  Scaliger  and  Smith,  parallels  from  French,  Italian,  Hebrew,  etc. 
The  part  dealing  with  'Etymology'  (Inflections,  and  the  Parts  of  Speech, 
called  here  [by  that  name]  )  is  followed  by  a  sketch  of  Syntax,  in  which 
examples  are  quoted,  taken  from  Chaucer,  Gower,  Sir  Thomas  More, 
etc.,  a  new  feature  in  English  grammars. 

The  opposition  to  the  'opinion'  of  'rudeness  and  barbarism'  cast  by 
some  on  the  English  language  and  repudiated  by  English  writers  from 
Sir  Thomas  More's  and  Ascham's  time  on,  led  to  an  interesting  move- 
ment in  the  seventeenth  century,  as  far  as  I  know  never  noticed  by  the 


l8  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

histories  of  English  Uterature:  a  movement  in  favor  of  following  the 
example  set  by  Richelieu's  foundation  of  the  Academie  Francaise,  1635. 
If  the  purity  of  the  language,  its  grammar,  its  orthography,  needed  look- 
ing after,  why  not  do  this  officially?  The  "new  Academy  of  wits  call'd 
I'Academie  de  beaux  esprits  which  the  late  Cardinal  de  Richelieu  founded 
in  Paris,  is  now  in  hand  to  reform  the  French  language,"  writes  Howell 
in  1656  to  justify  his  orthographical  'weeding'  out  of  superfluous  letters, 
and  perhaps  in  the  hope  of  stimulating  the  foundation  of  a  similar  insti- 
tution in  England, — Howell  who  in  1630  despaired  of  calling  English 
a  regular  language.  Dryden  hopes,  1664,  for  such  an  'Academy'  to  keep 
foreign  words  on  the  other  side  of  the  channel,  and  the  threatening  dan- 
ger of  an  English  Academy  reaches  its  height  in  what  Johnson  calls  Swift's 
petty  treatise,  the  Proposal  for  Correcting,  Improving  and  Enlarging, 
and  Ascertaining  the  English  Tongue,^^  1712,  and  in  his  desire  for  an 
Academy  "to  correct  and  fix  the  English  language,"  a  society  or  Acad- 
emy "to  provide  that  no  word  which  it  shall  give  a  sanction  to  be  after- 
wards antiquated,"  because  the  English  language,  "so  defective  in  gram- 
mar," was  to  be  "settled."  Perhaps  the  chmax  of  Swift's  statements  is 
contained  in  the  words :  "I  see  no  absolute  necessity  why  any  language 
should  be  perpetually  changing,"  words  which  we  should  condemn  in 
all  their  absurdity  if  the  ghost  of  Dr.  Bentley  would  not  appear  and  refer 
us  to  his  own  words. ^^  It  required  the  services  of  a  new  St.  George  to 
kill  these  follies  and  dangers,  and  Dr.  Johnson  arose  as  the  champion  of 
English  liberty,  and  as  a  man  with  an  insight  into  the  problems  of  the 
history  of  language.  He  banished  at  least  for  one  hundred  years  the 
dreams  of  "regulating  the  language." 

The  discipline  of  English  literary  history  was  long  in  forming:  we 
find  Pits  at  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century,  1619,  Fuller  in  the 
middle,  and  the  Thcatnim  of  Phillipps  at  the  end  of  the  century,  1675, 
followed  by  Winstanley,  Langbaine,  Blount:  catalogues  of  "characters 
and  censures"  in  spite  of  Bacon's  warning,  perhaps  grouped  in  parallels 
a  la  Plutarch  which  never  fit,  and  seasoned  with  'opiniones  aliorum.' 

Far  above  all  these  towers  the  figure  of  Hickes,  whose  philological 
career  began  with  his  Anglo-Saxon  Grammar,  1689  (ten  years  before 
Bentley 's  Dissertation!),  and  whose  chief  title  to  immortality  is  his 
Thesaurus,  published  1703-05  (seven  years  before  Bentley 's  Horace). 


"This  follows  Addison's  Spect.  No.  135,  August  4,  171 1.  The  Spectator 
despairs  of  a  rule  for  [settling  "all  controversies  between  grammar  and  idiom" 
otherwise  than  by  an  academy]. 

**  [See  Jebb's  life  of  Bentley,  p.  175.] 


HISTORY    OF   ENGLISH    PHILOLOGY FLUGEL  19 

Hickes'  services  to  Germanic  and  Anglo-Saxon  philology  are  well 
known ;  scarcely  noticed  are  his  services  to  Middle  English  studies. 

He  is  such  an  interesting  figure,  as  scholar  and  man,  that  we  could 
easily  and  profitably  expand  this  brief  account  into  a  long  lecture.  He 
is  the  earliest  author  of  a  scientific  Anglo-Saxon  grammar  based  on  the 
sources,  with  full  and  careful  quotations  from  these,  and  with  an  intelli- 
gent arrangement  of  the  material, — a  book  which  contains  glimpses  of  the 
recognition  of  facts  which  were  further  developed  not  until  Grimm's 
day.  He  demands  a  knowledge  of  all  the  'northern'  languages  as  a  neces- 
sity for  the  Anglo-Saxon  scholar, — a  comparative  study  of  Germanic 
languages  as  we  should  call  it.  He  demands  a  knowledge  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  for  the  historian  and  for  the  student  of  English  law ;  one  of  his 
desiderata  is  a  new  edition  of  Anglo-Saxon  laws  on  the  basis  of  a  new 
collation  of  all  the  MSS.  He  collects  dialect  words,  and  recognizes  the 
importance  of  the  study  of  dialects  for  the  philologist.  He  demands  an 
historical  English  grammar  based  on  a  knowledge  of  the  Ursprachen 
(linguarum  matricum)  and  following  the  various  changes  down  to  the 
modern  times  (he  calls  this  grammar  ratiocinativa  et  si  dicam  scientifica). 

He  recognized  the  affinity  of  the  Indo-Germanic  languages  not  only 
in  vocabulary,  but  in  inflection,  syntax,  and  composition  of  words,  and 
prays  to  God  that  somebody  would  come  to  write  now  de  communitate 
cum  aliis  antiquis  linguis,  de  communitatis  illius  causis.  This  connects 
him  with  Meric  Casaubon,  whose  comparison  of  Greek  and  Anglo-Saxon, 
1650,  deserves  to  be  mentioned.  He  is  eminent  as  a  commentator  of 
Anglo-Saxon  texts,  and  as  giving  for  the  first  time  a  clear  distinction 
of  the  periods  of  the  English  language  (his  periods  for  good  and  bad 
have  been  quoted  until  recent  times).  He  is  also  eminent  as  one  of  the 
earliest  scientific  palaeographers  of  England,  who  transferred  Mabillon's 
method  to  English  soil.  He  represents  the  beginning  of  historical  Eng- 
lish grammar  as  a  systematic  discipline,  a  field  in  which  he  did  not  have 
a  successor  until  Grimm.  He  abounds  in  valuable  remarks  on  a  great 
number  of  subjects,  which  prove  him  not  only  a  scholar  and  thinker,  but 
a  man  of  fine  taste.  I  may  mention  here  his  attitude  towards  Anglo- 
Saxon  and  Middle  English  metrics,  of  which  he  is  the  earliest  scholar,-" 
towards  alliteration,  towards  the  sound-mutation  of  Transition  English, 
ahd  towards  the  vocabulary  of  this  period,  as  well  as  his  examples  of 
Lautverschiebung,  his  fine  sesthetical  remarks  on  Anglo-Saxon  style  and 
poetics,  on  historical  syntax,  on  Anglo-Saxon  charters,  his  clear  recog- 

=^He  is  the  earliest  writer  who  directs  his  attention  to  Anglo-Saxon  metrics 
and  rhythmics,  which  he  clearly  distinguishes;  his  fine  feeling  for  rhythmical 
beauty  is  a  full  counterbalance  against  his  quantitative  mistakes. 


20  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

nition  of  Scandinavian  loan-words,  of  French  loan-words  introduced  at 
different  periods,  and  his  remarks  on  Middle  English  grammar.  He  is 
the  center  of  a  remarkable  group  of  younger  scholars ;  indeed  we  might 
call  the  whole  age  the  age  of  Hickes.  Of  these  younger  scholars  I  beg 
leave  only  to  give  the  names :  Christopher  Rawlinson,  Edward  Thwaites, 
William  Wotton,  David  Wilkins,  John  Smith  (of  Cambridge  and  Dur- 
ham), Thomas  Benson,  William  Elstob  and  his  sister  Elizabeth  Elstob 
(editor  of  ^Ifric's  Homily  on  St.  Gregory,  1709,  and  Rudiments  of 
Grammar  for  the  English-Saxon  Tongue,  1715).  None  of  these  was 
more  remarkable  than  Humfrey  Wanley,  whose  catalogue  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  manuscripts  (forming  the  third  folio  of  Hickes's  Thesaurus, 
1705)  stands  not  only  unique  in  his  time,  but  is  indispensable  for  our 
own  and  not  yet  superseded. 

The  work  of  Hickes  is  the  beginning  of,  and  for  a  long  time  it  is 
the  high  water  mark  for,  Anglo-Saxon  studies  and  of  scholarly  work  in 
general.  For  the  rest  of  the  studies  no  great  name  comparable  to  his 
can  be  mentioned  from  the  first  half  of  the  eighteenth  century;  we  must 
wait  for  the  second  half,  and  the  age  of  Dr.  Johnson,  Warton,  and  Tyr- 
whitt,  the  period  of  the  first  scholarly  dictionary  of  the  English  language, 
the  first  critical  edition  of  a  Middle  English  poet,  and  the  first  classical 
history  of  English  literature.  But  before  we  come  to  these  great  men, 
a  number  of  smaller  lights  have  to  be  observed,  and  some  other  move- 
ments which,  important  as  they  are,  do  not  lead  to  "epoch-making"  works. 

Shakespearean  scholarship,  from  Rowe  to  Malone,  does  not  even 
find  a  standard  of  textual  criticism  to  be  applied  to  Shakespeare's  works : 
Bentley's  influence  is  not  felt  on  this  field.  Its  only  achievement  is  the 
recognition  of  the  necessity  of  illustrating  Shakespeare's  idioms  from 
the  language  of  his  contemporaries. 

No  historical  grammar  is  written  which  could  be  placed  at  the 
side  of  Hickes's  work  in  Anglo-Saxon.  The  grammars,  if  they  are  not 
"practical"  (like  Greenwood's  and  Lowth's),  become  "philosophical"  and 
"universal"  (like  those  of  James  Harris,  Priestley,  and  Tooke)  ;  and 
only  timid  and  dilettantish  essays  are  made  in  the  direction  of  a  scholarly 
and  conscientious  solution  of  the  problems,  as  with  Toilet  and  Pegge, 
who  advocates  dialect  study,  has  the  idea  of  an  historical  dictionary  of 
English,  and  suggests  the  historical  study  of  English  in  the  schools,  but 
has  not  the  courage  to  learn  Anglo-Saxon  and  do  his  work  thoroughly. 

The  antiquarian  studies,  often  in  connection  with  legal  history,  often 
topographical  (as  with  Grose),  have  illustrious  names,  but  follow  the 
older  lines    (as  Wilkins's   Concilia,   1737).     Sir  John  Fortescue  Aland 


HISTORY    OF   ENGLISH    PHILOLOGY FLUGEL  21 

points  out,  like  Hickes  before  him,  the  importance  of  the  study  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  law,  and  of  a  knowledge  of  Anglo-Saxon.  Blackstone's  conclud- 
ing chapter  contains  the  first  brilliant  historical  account  of  the  rise  and 
progress  of  English  law,  and  was  the  stimulus  for  Reeves ;  but  no  history 
of  English  law  is  yet  written  based  on  a  careful  philological  study  of  the 
sources. 

But  the  interest  in  the  older  literature,  which  grows  from  slight 
beginnings  during  the  first  years  of  the  century  (as  in  Urry's  and  Morell's 
work  on  Chaucer),  increases.  Many  new  sources  are  opened,  new  fields 
of  work  begin  to  be  tilled.  The  old  ballads  are  modernized  and  collected, 
and  the  old  songs ;  the  minor  early  poets  are  edited  and  re-edited ;  Scot- 
land does  not  remain  behind ;  Ruddiman  leads.  Allan  Ramsay  follows, 
pointing  out  the  "natural  strength  of  thought  and  simplicity  of  stile  of 
our  Forefathers."  Historical  interest  induces  Hearne  to  edit  Robert  of 
Gloucester  and  Robert  of  Brunne,  and  to  slip  in  a  transcript  from 
Sheale's  copy  of  the  Chevy  Chase.  The  most  famous  of  all  these  col- 
lections, Percy's  Reliques,  appears  in  1765, — a  collection  which,  to  be 
sure,  takes  a  rather  apologetic  attitude  toward  these  "pieces  of  great  sim- 
plicity" and  "merely  written  for  the  people,"  but  which  is  not  without 
philological  interest.  Percy  selects  such  specimens  "as  either  shew  the 
gradation  of  our  language,  exhibit  the  progress  of  popular  opinions,  dis- 
play the  peculiar  manners  and  customs  of  former  ages,  or  throw  light 
on  our  earlier  classical  poets."  He  thinks  an  apology  necessary  for  what 
he  regarded  as  too  great  accuracy  (we  think  differently  about  it  now)  : 
"The  desire  of  being  accurate  has  perhaps  seduced  [the  editor]  into  too 
minute  and  trifling  an  exactness ;  and  in  pursuit  of  information  he  may 
have  been  drawn  into  many  a  petty  and  frivolous  research."  Among  his 
helpers  he  mentions  Farmer,  with  "that  extensive  knowledge  of  ancient 
English  literature  for  which  he  is  so  distinguished,"  and  Lye,  "who 
stands  at  this  time  the  first  in  the  world  for  northern  literature."  Like 
the  perfect  amateur  he  was,  creeping  behind  his  friends,  protesting  that 
he  has  included  nothing  "immoral  and  indecent,"  he  timidly  "hopes  he 
need  not  be  ashamed  [he  the  Reverend  gentleman!]  of  having  bestowed 
some  of  his  idle  hours  on  the  ancient  literature  of  our  own  country." 

There  was  fortunately  another  man  coming,  who  was  not  afraid 
of  wasting  his  precious  time  on  these  "rude  productions  of  unpolished 
ages" :  a  man  who  came  to  his  task  as  a  leader  of  classical  scholarship, 
who  approached  Middle  English  literature  with  a  keen  critical  eye, — 
Thomas  Tyrwhitt.  He  saw  what  was  needed  first,  and  what  former  edi- 
tors had  not  realized:  an  exact  philological  knowledge  and  a  critical 


22  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

method  in  dealing  with  the  old  texts.  Tyrwhitt  built  on  the  foundation  laid 
by  Hickes,  and  in  spite  of  mistakes  and  blunders  gave  the  first  satisfac- 
tory Middle  English  grammar.  His  editorial  principles  are :  ( i )  to  give 
the  text  as  correct  as  the  manuscripts  would  enable  him  to  make  it,  to 
"form"  it  throughout  from  manuscripts,  and  to  state  every  deviation; 
(2)  to  draw  the  line  between  the  imperfections  of  the  text  as  Chaucer 
left  them,  and  those  which  have  crept  in  since;  (3)  to  illustrate  and 
explain  the  more  difficult  passages  by  quotations  from  Chaucer's  con- 
temporaries. That  the  execution  of  his  work  remained  far  behind  his 
principles  must  not  be  forgotten,  but  with  every  deduction  he  stands  high 
in  the  annals  of  English  philology. 

Not  as  a  philologist,  but  as  an  antiquarian,  Joseph  Ritson  deserves 
a  place  after  Tyrwhitt, — a  man  "bitter  as  gall  and  sharp  as  a  razor," 
whose  "superstitious  scrupulosity"  was — strangely  enough — censured  by 
Scott. 

Far  above  him  in  general  importance,  indeed  the  first  master  of 
English  Uterary  history,  ranks  Thomas  Warton,  whose  History  of  Eng- 
lish Poetry  is  absolutely  epoch-making;  a  mine  of  information,  biblio- 
graphical, Uterary  and  historical;  not  a  model  of  methodical  precision, 
but  a  work  impregnated  by  intellectual  vigor,  written  in  a  clear  and  un- 
affected style,  and  most  remarkable  because  its  author  never  forgot  that 
he  was  an  historian  and  not  a  critic  of  literature.  Warton's  book  was 
bitterly  attacked  by  Ritson,  and  severely  criticized  by  Scott,  as  an  im- 
mense commonplace  book  of  memoirs  rather  than  a  history;  but  Herder 
and  Sulzer  at  once  recognized  its  importance,  and  we  regard  it  as  a  land- 
mark in  the  history  of  English  philology. 

English  lexicography  of  the  eighteenth  century  grows  out  of  the 
dictionaries  of  hard  words  of  the  seventeenth,  and  it  becomes  more  am- 
bitious. Old  words  begin  to  be  included  more  fully,  as  in  Kersey  (1708). 
Nathaniel  Bailey,  publishing  an  "Universal  Dictionary"  (1721),  wishes 
to  include  all  words,  and  is  the  first  lexicographer  on  English  soil  who 
marks  the  accent  (in  Germany  Ludwig  had  preceded  him).  The  classical 
age  of  English  literature  called  for  a  standard  dictionary,  for  which 
Johnson's  services  were  secured  in  1747;  working  with  astonishing  quick- 
ness, "under  pressure  and  anxiety,  in  sickness  and  in  sorrow,"  he  pro- 
duced in  1755  his  great  work.  The  new  features  of  this  immortal  work 
are  (i)  the  systematic  insertion  of  quotations  ;  and  (2)  the  careful  logical 
— not  yet  historical — determination  and  distinction  of  the  "shades  of 
meaning."  We  have  his  classical  remarks  on  the  Dictionary,  full  of  sound 
observations  on  language,  arguments  against  "fixing"  the  language,  far 


HISTORY   OF  ENGLISH    PHILOLOGY FLUGEL  23 

gentler  than  his  apodictical  remarks  in  some  famous  definitions.  To 
become  a  truly  "faithful  lexicographer"  he  lacked  only  one  thing,  which 
would  have  made  his  dictionary  not  only  critical  ("interpretative")  but 
historical,  and  that  was  a  deeper  knowledge  of  English  philology — a 
knowledge  worthy  of  a  successor  of  Hickes  and  Junius.  He  says,  "I 
pleased  myself  with  the  prospect  of  .  .  .  the  obscure  recesses  of 
northern  learning  which  I  should  enter  and  ransack,  the  treasures  with 
which  I  expected  every  search  into  those  neglected  mines  to  reward  my 
labours."  The  mines  were  not  as  neglected  as  he  thought;  and  what  a 
pity  that  he  did  not  enter  more  deeply!  as  deeply,  for  instance,  as  Tyr- 
whitt.  If  he  could  have  conquered  himself,  if  he  had  put  his  own  great 
personality  into  the  service  of  English  philology,  the  later  development 
of  this  branch  of  science  would  have  been  different.  But  we  have  no 
right  to  introduce  the  great  Might-have-been ;  we  have  to  be  grateful  for 
what  he  gave,  when,  as  he  says,  so  much  of  his  life  "has  been  lost  under 
the  pressure  of  disease,  much  has  been  trifled  away,  and  much  has  always 
been  spent  in  provision  for  the  day  that  was  passing  over  me." 

To  summarize  the  later  development  of  English  lexicography,  I 
should  say  that  the  dictionaries  in  the  age  after  Johnson  were  mainly 
pronouncing  dictionaries:  what  is  so  horribly  called  Orthoepy  was  the 
goddess  worshiped  by  Perry,  Sheridan,  Walker,  and  Nares,  and  this 
utilitarian  or  pedagogical  aim  deprives  them  of  higher  scientific  value, 
even  if  they  are  most  valuable  for  us  by  giving  statements  as  to  the 
actual  pronunciation. 

Among  continental  works  I  should  mention  the  early  literary  inter- 
est in  English  literature  in  France :  the  Jugemens  des  Savons,  by  Adrien 
Baillet,  1685;  the  Memoires  of  Michel  de  la  Roche,  1710-14;  Disserta- 
tion siir  la  Pocsie  Anglaise,  1713;  Bibliothcque  Anglaise  (15  volumes), 
1717-27;  Memoires  Literaires  de  la  Grande  Bretagne,  by  La  Roche  and 
Chapelle,  1720-24;  Voltaire's  Lettres,  1733  ;  the  Bibliothcque  Britannique, 
1735;  Abbe  Yart's  Idee  de  la  Poesie  Anglaise,  1749;  the  Journal  Britan- 
nique, 175 1.  In  Germany  we  find,  after  the  Bibliotheca  Poetica,  1625, 
Morhof's  Unterricht,  1682,  and  Polyhistor,  1688-92;  then  the  Acta  Erudi- 
torum,  from  1682  to  1732,  including  essays  and  reviews  dealing  with 
English  literary  subjects,  generally  from  the  pen  of  Burkhard  Mencke. 
Among  the  subjects  of  papers  are  Hickes's  Grammar,  Milton,  Dryden, 
Shaftesbury,  Shakespeare,  and  the  English  Language.  Of  the  poets 
studying  EngUsh  literature  we  should  mention  Wernicke,  Brockes,  Bod- 
mer,  Gleim,  Hagedorn,  Herder,  Goethe,  and  scores  of  others.  We  find  a 
Britische  Bibliothek,  1756-67;   Historische-Kritische  Nachrichten  einiger 


24 


FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 


Merkwiirdigen  Englischen  Dichter,  1780  ;  Reuss's  Lexicon  der  Lebendigen 
Schriftsteller  in  Gross  Britannien,  1770-1803;  Britisches  Museum,  1777- 
80;  Annalen,  1780;  and  Sulzer's  admirable  bibliographical  notes  on  the 
English  drama,  comedy,  tragedy,  songs,  didactic  poetry,  the  romances 
and  fairy  tales,  epigrams,  pastorals,  satirical  poetry,  etc.  But  not  one 
name  should  stand  higher  than  that  of  Herder,  who  first  among  moderns 
has  a  deep  insight  into  the  heart  and  soul  of  another  living  people,  a 
warm  sympathy  with  it,  and  a  clear  grasp  of  its  intellectual  essence; 
who  not  only  first  inspires  Germany  for  Ossian  and  Shakespeare  (1773), 
but  in  his  essay  on  the  similarity  between  Middle  English  poetry  and 
Middle  German,  1777,  shows  an  historical  insight  into  the  development 
of  English  literature  and  proudly  asserts  that  the  "immense  treasure  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon  language  is  ours  too,"  and  hopes  for  a  study  of  this 
language,  mentioning  an  early  plan  for  an  Anglo-Saxon  Library  in  Ger- 
many, and  recognizing  with  a  sigh  the  absence  of  a  Parker,  a  Selden,  a 
Spelman,  a  Hooker,  a  Warton,  in  German  philology.  When  he  wrote 
this  the  man  who  was  to  combine  all  the  strength  of  these  giants  was 
not  yet  born;  but  forty  years  afterwards  there  was  given  to  the  world 
the  work  which  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  greatest  landmark  in  the  history 
of  Germanic  as  well  as  English  philology.  I  am  speaking,  of  course,  of 
Jacob  Grimm's  Grammar,  published  1819.  Indeed  Grimm's  work  is  so 
stupendous  that  we  must  divide  the  whole  history  of  Germanic  philology 
into  a  period  before  the  appearance  of  the  grammar  and  one  after.  The 
first  period  is  preparatory,  deals  with  the  beginnings;  the  second  with 
its  manhood  and  maturity.  The  truth  of  this  statement  we  find  clearly 
shown  by  the  development  of  Anglo-Saxon  studies  in  England :  the  work 
that  is  done  before  Grimm,  or  after  the  publication  of  the  Grammar 
without  taking  account  of  it  (as  by  Bosworth,  1823),  appears  to  us  now 
antediluvian,  nay  incredible.  Bosworth  is  a  Hickes  redivivus,  but  what 
was  wonderful  in  1703  is  a  serious  step  backward  in  1823.  His  services, 
if  we  want  to  give  a  calm  judgment,  were  historically  valuable,  because 
he  helped  to  satisfy  the  demand  for  a  more  elementary  grammar  and  a 
word-list;  but  he  neither  wrote  a  grammar  nor  a  dictionary  worthy  of 
that  name  for  our  time,  and  his  work  is  an  anachronism. 

More  remarkable  are  the  services  of  Conybeare,  who  published  good 
translations  from  the  Anglo-Saxon,  and  whose  short  life  promised  greater 
things  ;  and  a  high  place  of  honor  is  due  to  Sharon  Turner,  whose //w^orv 
of  England  from  the  Earliest  Period  to  the  Norman  Conquest  (1799- 
1805)  was  a  new  start  in  Anglo-Saxon  and  English  historiography.  It 
was    the    first    Anglo-Saxon    Kulturgeschichte,    with    ample    quotations 


HISTORY   OF   ENGLISH    PHILOLOGY FLUGEL  25 

obtained  often  under  the  greatest  difficulties ;  the  first  work  in  England 
in  which  at  least  the  attempt  is  made  to  give  the  story  of  Beowulf.  Men- 
tion should  also  be  made  of  J.  Webb  (who  died  early,  1814),  whose 
Grammar  of  the  Primitive,  Intermediate,  and  Modern  English  Tongue 
was  never  finished ;  and  of  Dr.  Silver,  James  Ingram,  and  Robert 
Meadows  White.  But  the  two  scholars  who  mark  the  greatest  advance 
in  scholarship  during  the  first  half  of  the  century  are  Kemble  and  Thorpe. 
Benjamin  Thorpe  was  the  pupil  of  Rask,  and  the  careful  editor  of  Caed- 
mon,  the  Laws,  the  Gospels,  /Elfric's  Homilies,  and  the  Diplomatarium. 
John  Mitchell  Kemble  was  the  grateful  pupil  of  Maasmann,  Schmeller, 
and  Grimm, — of  Grimm  especially,  to  whom  he  says  that  he  owes  "all  the 
knowledge  I  possess,  such  as  it  is ;  the  founder  of  that  school  of  philology 
which  has  converted  etymological  researches,  once  a  chaos  of  accidents, 
into  a  logical  and  scientific  system,"  and  who  he  hopes  (in  the  dedication 
of  his  Beoii'ulf)  "will  not  refuse  this  tribute  of  admiration  and  respect 
from  perhaps  the  first  Englishman  who  has  adopted  and  acted  upon  his 
views."  Considering  the  fifty  years  of  his  life,  Kemble's  work  is  aston- 
ishing: his  edition  of  Beoivulf,  of  the  Codex  V ere ellencis,oi  Salomon  and 
Saturn,  not  to  mention  his  lectures  on  Anglo-Saxon  literature,  his  anti- 
quarian researches,  and  his  collection  of  Anglo-Saxon  documents 
(1839-48),  which  is  the  foundation  of  our  present  knowledge  of  early 
English  institutions  and  customs,  the  great  model  of  all  such  undertak- 
ings. His  exact  knowledge  of  Anglo-Saxon,  his  paleographic  skill  and 
critical  acumen,  make  his  work  monumental ;  and  the  commentary  on  it. 
The  Saxons  in  England  (1849),  ^'^^  the  undisputed  masterpiece  until 
the  appearance  of  Stubbs's  Constitutional  History  in  1873. 

As  successors  of  Kemble  and  Thorpe  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  field  we 
should  mention  John  Earle,  Skeat,  Toller,  Richard  Garnett,  Hardwick, 
Cockayne,  and  Joseph  Stevenson.  Nor  has  any  one  been  more  trust- 
worthy and  solid  than  Henry  Sweet  and  Arthur  Napier, — the  latter 
trained  in  that  great  school  of  textual  accuracy  of  JuHus  Zupitza's.  As 
the  undisputed  master  of  English  phonology — and  the  phonology  of  the 
dialects — we  should  mention,  besides  Sweet,  Alexander  J.  Ellis,  author 
of  the  monumental  work  on  Early  English  pronunciation  and  the  phonol- 
ogy of  EngHsh  dialects  (1869-89);  James  Murray,  who  gave  the  first 
model  grammar  of  any  English  dialect  (1873);  Joseph  Wright;  and 
Edwin  Guest,  author  of  the  earliest  large  work  on  English  rhythms 
(1838)  and  a  great  number  of  valuable  grammatical  and  antiquarian 
investigations. 

An  event  of  great  importance  for  English  philological  studies  was 


26  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

the  founding  of  the  Philological  Society  in  1842.  Before  this,  in  1857, 
Richard  C.  Trench  read  his  paper  on  "Some  Deficiencies  of  our  Dic- 
tionary," which  led  to  the  vast  collection  of  material  for  a  new  EngUsh 
Dictionary.  The  earliest  plans  for  this  Dictionary  were  drawn  by  Her- 
bert Coleridge  {Proposal,  1859)  and  Frederick  J.  Furnivall ;  the  work 
was  eventually  put  into  the  safe  hands  of  the  greatest  living  authority  on 
English  philology.  Dr.  Murray,  who,  after  years  of  patient  toil,  wise 
planning,  and  remarkable  circumspection,  produced  the  first  part  of  this 
monumentiim  aere  perennius  in  1888.  At  the  side  of  this  greatest  master- 
piece of  our  science  the  other  pieces  of  lexicographical  work  recede  into 
the  background,  even  if  they  represent  honest  work  and — for  their  time — 
a  high  standard  of  excellence  or  usefulness:  Jamison's  Etymological 
Dictionary  of  the  Scottish  Language  (1808),  a  great  storehouse  of  quota- 
tions; Todd's  Johnson  (1816)  and  Latham's  Johnson  (1870);  Nares's 
Glossary  (1822)  ;  Charles  Richardson's  New  Dictionary  (1836)  ;  Wedg- 
wood's Etymological  Dictionary  (1857);  and  Skeat's  Etymological 
Dictionary,  the  best  of  its  kind — a  great  storehouse  of  information.  The 
necessary  supplement  to  the  Oxford  Dictionary  is  the  English  Dialect 
Dictionary,  based  in  part  on  the  material  collected  by  the  Dialect  Society 
(which  was  founded  by  Skeat)  and  edited,  with  great  philological  knowl- 
edge and  technical  skill,  by  Joseph  Wright. 

In  the  history  of  Middle  EngUsh  studies  (which  were  profited  less 
directly  by  Grimm,  who  had  not  many  more  texts  than  Tyrwhitt's 
Chaucer  and  Walter  Scott's  Sir  Tristrem)  a  new  epoch  begins — not  only 
for  England — with  the  founding  of  the  Early  English  Text  Society  by 
Dr.  Furnivall  in  1864.  This  not  only  gave  a  new  impulse  to  these  studies, 
but  made  them  possible  on  a  scientific  scale.  A  new  scholarly  life  begins 
with  its  publications,  and  the  services  of  the  moving  and  leading  spirit 
of  the  Society,  Dr.  Furnivall,  are  not  only  of  lasting  value  for  philological 
studies  but  of  national  importance.  His  aim  was  "to  bring  the  mass  of 
earher  literature  within  the  reach  of  the  ordinary  student,  and  to  wipe 
away  the  reproach  under  which  England  had  long  rested,  of  having  felt 
little  interest  in  the  monuments  of  her  early  life  and  language."  To 
achieve  this  end  more  fully,  Furnivall  has  crowned  his  work  with  the 
founding  of  the  Chaucer  Society  and  the  publication  of  the  great  mass 
of  Chaucer  manuscripts,  which  alone  makes  a  critical  study  of  Chaucer's 
text  possible.  On  the  work  done  by  Dr.  Furnivall  and  his  helpers  rests 
the  study  of  Middle  English  dialects.  As  master  commentator,  if  not 
editor,  of  manuscript  texts,  we  may  mention  Professor  W.  W.  Skeat,  the 
Tyrwhitt  of  the  nineteenth  century. 


HISTORY   OF   ENGLISH    PHILOLOGY FLUGEL  2/ 

Of  the  men  who  did  valuable  work  before  the  founding  of  the  Early 
English  Text  Society,  we  should  mention — after  Walter  Scott,  Weber, 
and  the  earlier  pioneers  in  this  line — especially :  David  Laing,  James 
Morton,  R.  M.  White,  and  Sir  Frederick  Madden,  the  greatest  palae- 
ographer of  his  day,  whose  editions  of  Layamon,  of  Havelok,  and  of 
Wycliffe's  Bible  (based  on  a  careful  collation  of  sixty-five  manuscripts) 
are  monuments  not  yet  superseded.  We  should  also  mention  the  print- 
ing clubs,  like  the  Roxburgh,  the  Surtees  Society,  the  Camden  Society, 
the  Scottish  Societies,  and  the  Rolls  Series.  One  of  the  most  voluminous 
editors  of  Middle  English  and  Elizabethan  works  was  Thomas  Wright, 
whose  best  editions  are  Robert  of  Gloucester  and  Robert  of  Brunne,  the 
Political  Songs,  the  Anglo-Latin  poets,  and  the  volume  of  Vocabularies, 
and  whose  most  stimulating  work  was  the  Reliquiae  Antiquae,  published 
in  conjunction  with  Halliwell,  1839-43.  What  a  pity  that  his  carelessness, 
his  lack  of  accurate  philological  knowledge,  and  his  mania  for  rapid  book- 
making,  should  bring  the  value  of  his  whole  life's  work  in  question ! 

As  to  the  work  done  in  the  editing  of  Elizabethan  and  later  texts, 
the  central  interest  is  grouped  around  Shakespeare,  and  the  development 
of  Shakespearean  studies  would  easily  demand  more  time  than  we  can 
give  to  it.  The  landmarks  of  this  vast  field  of  English  philology  seem 
to  be,  after  Bos  well's  Malone,  1820,  Collier's  textual  work  (1842-44,  be- 
fore he  stigmatized  his  name  and  fame  forever)  ;  Halli well's  Folio  edition, 
1853-65;  Dyce's  critical  text,  1857;  Clark  and  Wright's,  1863-66;  the 
illustrative  work  of  Douce;  that  of  Drake;  the  Concordance  of  Mary 
Cowden  Clarke;  the  photolithograph  of  the  First  Folio,  by  Staunton, 
1866;  Ingleby's  and  Fleay's  criticism;  the  Life  of  Shakespeare,  by  Halli- 
well, 1874-84,  the  results  of  which  may  for  the  most  part  be  regarded  as 
final ;  and  the  careful  bibUographical  work  of  Sidney  Lee.  Other  texts 
belonging  to  the  period  of  modern  English  literature  that  mark  an  ad- 
vance in  method  are  Nott's  Wyatt  and  Surrey,  181 5- 16,  and  the  editions 
by  Gififord,  whose  forte  lies  in  his  sharp  and  racy  commentary.  The 
most  trustworthy  editor  of  Elizabethan  dramatists  is  Dyce,  whose  edition 
of  Skelton  is  also  a  classic.  Merely  mentioning  the  careful  reprint  of 
Dodsley's  collection  of  plays,  by  Hazlitt,  and  the  work  of  the  Old  and 
the  New  Shakespeare  Societies,  we  have  to  note  particularly  Hales'  and 
Furnivall's  Percy  Folio  Manuscript,  Grosart's  on  the  whole  very  accurate 
reproductions,  Chappell  and  Rimbault's  Ballads  and  Songs,  and,  last  but 
not  least,  Arber's  Reprints.  Moreover,  Arber's  Transcripts  of  the  Sta- 
tioner's Register  and  Term  Catalogues  are  the  basis  of  any  sound  biblio- 
graphical study  of  the  Hterature  of  the  earlier  epoch  of  modern  English. 


28  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

The  history  of  EngHsh  literature  has  not  found  in  the  nineteenth 
century  a  master  who  might  be  compared  with  Warton.  ElUs's  Historical 
Sketch  ( 1801 )  is  ridiculous  ;  Wright's  Biographia  contains  a  valuable  mass 
of  materials,  but  is  no  history;  David  Irving's  Scottish  Poetry  (1828-61) 
is  a  standard  work  only  for  lack  of  a  better  one.  Morley's  English 
Writers  is  a  good  popular  work,  but  not  critical,  independent,  or  exhaust- 
ive. Collier's  Materials  for  a  History  of  Dramatic  Poetry  are  far  more 
remarkable  than  all  these;  but  not  one  of  these  men  reaches  Warton's 
height,  and  Adolphus  W.  Ward's  History  of  English  Dramatic  Litera- 
ture (1875)  alone  can  be  called  a  classical  account  of  this  important 
branch  of  the  history  of  literature.  More  popular  books,  school-books, 
or  more  or  less  subjective  treatments,  undertaken  from  the  standpoint  of 
an  individual  enjoyment  of  this  or  that  period,  or  of  a  special  love  of  a 
special  poet — causeries  generally  more  entertaining  and  less  sound — do 
not  take  the  place  of  a  sound  literary  history ;  Gosse's  Eighteenth  Century 
Literature,  Saintsbury's  Elizabethan  Literature,  and  the  like,  make  the 
want  of  a  comprehensive  scholarly  history  of  English  literature  felt  only 
the  more.  But,  to  be  sure,  the  field  is  so  vast  that  the  ordinary  scholar  is 
deterred ;  and  every  succeeding  age  will  require  a  greater  master  to  earn 
these  laurels. 

Other  countries  have  faithfully  helped,  none  more  faithfully  than 
Germans;  and  Klopstock's  word  still  holds  good  (unless  America  shall 
wrest  this  laurel  from  the  old  country  in  course  of  time) — *'Nie  war 
gegen  das  Ausland  ein  andres  Land  gerecht  wie  du."  Never  were  scholars 
ready  to  devote  themselves  more  unselfishly  and  more  seriously  to  the 
study  of  a  foreign  language  or  literature,  and  never  did  the  quiet,  serious 
application  of  methodical  training  yield  better  results.  Grimm's  funda- 
mental work  not  only  served  as  a  basis  for  later  work,  but  it  also  largely 
inspired  and  directed  the  work  in  historical  EngUsh  grammar,  that  branch 
of  English  philology  which  has  kept  in  the  foreground  of  study  and  in- 
terest during  the  second  half  of  the  nineteenth  century,  and  which  is  re- 
garded as  the  key  to  the  scientific  examination  of  modern  English,  to  the 
beginnings  of  English  literature,  and  the  philological  method  in  general. 
The  study  of  Anglo-Saxon  has,  perhaps,  the  greatest  number  of  eminent 
names :  Leo,  Bouterwek,  Dieterich,  Ettmiiller,  Ebert,  Rieger,  and  the  one 
man  who,  working  under  the  most  distressing  circumstances,  with  an  iron 
will,  and  sound  knowledge  of  comparative  Germanic  grammar,  prepared 
the  texts  of  Anglo-Saxon  poetry  on  which  all  later  study  of  these  texts  is 
based,  on  which  indirectly  the  later  work  in  Anglo-Saxon  grammar  is 
also  based,  and  whose  Anglo-Saxon  Sprachschatz  (1861-64)  is  the  first 


HISTORY   OF   ENGLISH    PHILOLOGY FLUGEL  29 

and  only  satisfactory  Anglo-Saxon  dictionary, — the  model  of  a  work  of 
the  kind,  and  not  yet  antiquated.  Grein  not  only  furnished  the  pattern 
for  such  a  work,  but  also  pointed  the  way  to  a  complete  dictionary,  which 
our  generation  has  not  yet  succeeded  in  furnishing.  The  later  editions 
of  the  Bibliothek,  Wiilcker's  continuation  of  Grein's  scheme,  are  worthy 
of  their  forerunner,  and  the  editions  of  Zupitza  and  Assmann,  will  not 
be  superseded  for  a  long  time  to  come.  The  critical  work  of  Miillenhof, 
ten  Brink,  and  others,  applied  the  method  of  the  "higher  criticism"  to 
Beozvulf,  and  even  if  we  do  not  accept  their  results,  the  method  of  these 
studies  remains  one  of  the  lasting  achievements  of  Anglo-Saxon  phil- 
ology. 

The  history  of  Anglo-Saxon  literature  found  an  early  worker  m 
Ettmiiller ;  its  most  brilliant  sketch  is  the  one  by  ten  Brink.  The  host  of 
workers  in  the  field  with  a  smaller  output  cannot  be  enumerated  here ; 
their  safe  results  were  critically  sifted  in  Wiilcker's  Grundriss,  which  is 
a  model,  in  its  way,  of  the  help  which  such  a  book  can  become  in  the 
hands  of  a  master.  Anglo-Saxon  history  found  eminent  representatives 
in  Gervinus  (1830),  Lappenberg,  and  Pauli ;  Lappenberg's  work,  for  the 
time  of  its  publication  (1834),  was  "the  most  complete,  the  most  judi- 
cious, the  most  unbiased,  and  most  profound," — an  early  example  of  the 
critical  historical  method,  and  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of  it.  The  study 
of  Anglo-Saxon  law  is  represented  worthily  by  Schmid  (who  studied 
with  Grimm's  grammar  the  texts  he  was  going  to  edit),  by  Maurer,  who 
is  regarded  as  the  founder  of  the  discipline  of  the  history  of  comparative 
Germanic  law,  and  by  Liebermann,  whose  new  edition  of  the  Laws,  in 
course  of  publication,  will  be  a  xxfj^ia  eg  alei,  combining  soundness  of 
historical  scholarship  with  philological  accuracy  and  a  mastery  of  the 
critical  method. 

The  stress  which  was  laid  so  early  on  Anglo-Saxon,  and  the  model 
of  an  historical  grammar  established  by  Grimm,  resulted  in  the  first  great 
historical  grammar,  that  of  Koch,  1863-64,  following  Fiedler's  still  earlier 
but  less  complete  attempt  (1850),  and  in  the  systematic  grammar  of 
Modern  English  by  Matzner,  who  is  careful  in  giving  the  historical  basis 
in  his  notes.  Matzner's  great  merits  consist  in  his  syntactical  studies, 
and  in  his  services  for  Middle  English.  The  Middle  English  section  of 
grammar  also  found  masters  in  Kluge,  Morsbach,  and  Luick.  All  pre- 
vious work  in  Anglo-Saxon  grammar  was  absolutely  superseded  by  Sie- 
vers's  Grammar,  which  holds  its  place  as  containing  a  model  treatment  of 
inflections  and  phonology,  and  gives  the  basis  for  grammatical  work  in 
Middle  English  by  ten  Brink,  Morsbach,  Kaluza,  and  the  scores  of  com- 


30  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

pilers  of  dissertations.  Stratmann  gave  the  earliest  Middle  English 
glossary  on  a  large  basis ;  but  Matzner's  dictionary,  utilizing  the  mater- 
ials of  the  Early  English  Text  Society,  is  the  first  real  dictionary  of  Mid- 
dle English, — of  the  greatest  importance  (even  if  Matzner  does  not  men- 
tion it)  for  English  lexicography  at  large.  The  study  of  English — espe- 
cially Middle  English — syntax  is  worthily  represented  by  the  work  of 
Einenkel  and  Kellner,  that  of  Anglo-Saxon  syntax  by  Nader  and  Wiilf- 
ing;  and  the  day  is  not  far  distant  when  a  German  will  present  his 
cousins  with  the  first  historical  syntax  on  a  large  scale.  English  phon- 
ology was  stimulated  by  the  representative  works  on  phonetics  of  Sievers, 
Trautmann,  and  Victor. 

Middle  English  textual  studies  are  flourishing,  but,  whether  due  to 
the  largeness  of  the  field  or  to  the  still  incomplete  material,  the  harvest 
has  not  yet  been  gleaned  as  thoroughly  as  in  Anglo-Saxon  studies.  Of 
the  grammatical  and  lexicographical  works  I  have  spoken ;  but  the  critical 
editing  requires  a  further  note.  The  earlier  work  of  Stratmann  and 
Matzner  was  followed  up  by  Mall,  who  in  1870  tried  for  the  first  time 
to  edit  a  Middle  English  text  through  a  careful  investigation  of  the  rimes, 
and  the  establishing  of  a  pedigree  of  manuscripts.  His  work  was  carried 
on  on  a  broader  basis  by  Zupitza,  Kolbing,  and  Horstmann ;  and  ten 
Brink  showed  in  his  edition  of  Chaucer's  Prologue  and  the  Compleynte 
to  Pite  an  equal  mastery  of  this  field.  Zupitza  and  Kolbing  also  deserve 
to  be  mentioned  as  commentators ;  the  notes  on  Guy  of  Warwick  and  the 
metrical  romances  vie  with  the  commentaries  of  the  old  Dutch  school, 
while  the  texts  show  the  critical  sagacity  of  Bentley. 

Of  all  the  modern  writers  Shakespeare  has,  of  course,  received  the 
largest  portion  of  critical  care.  Of  the  scores  upon  scores  of  German 
commentators,  editors,  lexicographers,  and  lecturers,  it  would  be  an  end- 
less task  to  give  an  adequate  idea.  The  masterpieces  of  the  scholarly 
study  of  the  poet  are  the  critical  edition  of  Delius,  1854-61,  the  edition 
of  Romeo  and  Juliet  by  Tycho  Mommsen,  1859,  the  biography  of  Shake- 
speare by  Elze,  and  the  Lexicon  by  Alexander  Schmidt,  1874.  Among 
other  workers  in  Elizabethan  literature  we  should  mention  Koeppel's  re- 
searches, those  of  Sarrazin,  and  Schick's  investigations  in  Kyd.  The 
earlier  Tudor  period  has  found  an  historian  of  its  political  aspects 
(Busch),  but  no  Lechler  has  devoted  his  attention  to  the  age  of  the  Re- 
formation either  for  its  theology  or  its  literature. 

The  history  of  English  literature,  or  large  sections  of  it,  was  treated 
by  Eichorn  (1796),  Bouterwek  (1801-10),  Grasse,  and  Schlegel ;  by 
Ebert,  whose  Essay  on  the  Beginnings  of  the  Drama  (1859)  is  a  land- 


HISTORY   OF   ENGLISH    PHILOLOGY FLUGEL  3I 

mark  in  this  study ;  by  Klein,  whose  Geschichte  des  Dramas  is  a  monu- 
ment of  vast  learning,  presented  in  a  horrible  form;  by  Hettner — more 
suggestive  than  accurate ;  and  by  Ranke,  in  some  classical  chapters  of 
his  History  of  England,  1859.  But  the  unsurpassed,  unequalled  master 
of  this  branch  was  Bernhard  ten  Brink,  whose  great  services  to  Chaucer 
studies  and  to  Beowulf  are  overshadowed  by  his  classical  History  of 
Early  English  Literature,  which  is  the  undisputed  model  of  modern  liter- 
ary history.  Based  on  the  widest  as  well  as  deepest  knowledge  of  medi- 
eval literature,  it  combines  absolute  accuracy,  great  originality,  and  the 
finest  literary  taste  with  a  mastery  of  language  to  a  degree  of  which  no 
other  modern  literature  can  boast  an  equal.  It  is  the  first  real  history  of 
English  literature,  and — more  than  that — a  history  of  English  intellect, 
incomplete  on  account  of  the  premature  death  of  its  author. 

The  technical  side  of  EngHsh  poetry  has  found  a  voluminous  his- 
torian in  Schipper  (1881-88),  some  of  whose  pupils,  as  Luick  and  Al- 
scher,  have  followed  him.  Of  the  scientific  journals  devoted  to  English 
philology,  either  entirely  or  in  part,  we  should  mention  Herrig's  Archiv 
(1846),  Elze's  Atlantis  (1846),  Ebert's  Jahrhiicher,  Englische  Studien 
(1877),  Anglia  (1878),  the  Mitteilungen,  the  Bihliographische  Jahres- 
berichte,  and  the  serial  publications  of  a  number  of  universities,  hke  the 
Bonner,  Miinchener,  and  Marburger  Beitrdge. 

The  other  European  nations  have  scarcely  competed  with  the  Ger- 
mans in  the  field  of  English  philology.  Of  Spanish  contributions  I  do 
not  know.  Of  Italian  there  are  the  early  popular  accounts  of  Beozvulf, 
the  work  of  Bellezza  and  others  dealing  with  Chaucer — rather  popular  in 
character — and  the  beginnings  of  Shakespeare  study.  Among  the  French 
there  is  the  superficial  account  of  English  literature  by  Chateaubriand, 
surpassed  in  superficiality  and  absolute  lack  of  soundness  by  Taine's  fa- 
mous book,  which,  for  the  older  periods  at  least,  cannot  claim  any  con- 
sideration, and  whose  flashes  of  genius  illumine  the  later  periods  more  in 
the  fashion  of  lightning  than  of  steady  sunlight.  Francisque  Michel's 
Bibliothcque  Anglo-Saxonne  (1836)  was  a  good  beginning;  Sandras's 
work,  pretentious  but  unsound;  and  it  is  only  in  recent  years  that  more 
careful  study  and  maturer  scholarship  have  been  devoted  to  English.  I 
mention  especially  Jusserand  and  Bapst,  Beljame,  Henry,  and  Thomas. 
Among  the  "northern"  nations  Russia  has  furnished  the  classical  account 
of  Greene,  and  Denmark  has  been  a  stronghold  of  sound  Anglo-Saxon 
studies:  Thorkelin  made  the  first  copy  of  the  Beowulf  manuscript  (1786) 
and  the  first  edition  (1815).  There  are  also  Grundtvig's  studies,  editions, 
and    translations    (1802-20);     Rask's   Anglo-Saxon    Grammar    (1817)  ; 


32 


FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 


later  Worsaae,  Steenstrup's  work  on  the  Normans,  the  Beowulf  studies 
of  Bugge,  and  the  Studier  over  Engelske  Kasus  of  Jespersen  (1891). 
Sweden  has  Wadstein's  recent  studies.  Holland  has  the  careful  work  of 
the  brothers  Logeman,  and  Cosijn's  brilliant  Beowulf  notes  and  statis- 
tical grammar  of  the  West  Saxon  dialect. 

In  America  we  date  the  first  timid  beginnings  of  English  philological 
studies  from  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century.  What  precedes  can 
scarcely  claim  the  title  of  belonging  to  our  subject.  There  are  the  articles 
on  Americanisms  by  Witherspoon  (1761),  Franklin's  curious  Scheme 
for  a  new  Alphabet  and  a  reformed  mode  of  Spelling  (1768),  the  earlier 
practical  grammars  by  Robert  Ross  (1780),  Webster  (1783),  and— if 
we  claim  him— Lindley  Murray  (1795).  More  valuable  are  the  earlier 
lexicographical  works  of  Webster  (1810),  Pickering  (1816),  Worcester 
(1846),  and  Bartlett  (1848).  Quite  unique  in  interest  is  Jefferson's  Httle 
Introduction  to  Anglo-Saxon,  and  his  provision  for  the  first  chair  of 
Anglo-Saxon  in  America.  Later  come  Longfellow's  early  studies  in 
Anglo-Saxon  literature  (1836),  and  the  life-work  of  the  Nestor  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  studies  in  this  country,  Francis  March. 

The  foundation  of  Johns  Hopkins  University,  and  its  courses 
modeled  (for  better  for  worse)  after  the  German  pattern,  produced  an 
early  harvest  of  respectable  work  from  Bright  and  his  pupils;  while  a 
number  of  American  scholars  received  their  inspiration  in  Germany.  At 
the  head  of  these  are  J.  M.  Hart  and  Albert  S.  Cook,  the  author  of  the 
best  publications  on  Anglo-Saxon  subjects  in  this  country.  Another  group 
may  be  formed  of  the  pupils  of  Francis  J.  Child,— Kittredge,  Manly, 
Gummere,  and  others,  excelling  in  Middle  English  and  Tudor  English; 
and  others  are  "independent,"  like  Hiram  Corson  (who  would  scarcely 
care  to  be  classed  here,  but  whose  Reader  gives  him  an  early  and  an  hon- 
orable place),  and  Lounsbury,  justly  regarded  as  one  of  the  great  Chaucer 
scholars  of  our  time.  As  the  three  great  names  in  the  history  of  English 
philology  in  America  I  should  not  hesitate  to  name  Lowell,  Child,  and 
Furness.  Lowell's  many  essays  on  literary  and  philological  subjects  give 
him  a  leading  rank  in  our  field;  from  the  time  of  the  publication  of  his 
Conversations  on  the  Old  Poets  (1845)  to  his  essay  on  Milton's  Areo- 
pagitica  (1890)  he  treated  a  great  number  of  subjects  belonging  to  the 
history  of  English  literature  with  the  hand  of  a  master,  the  keen  eye  of 
a  scientist,  and  the  soul  of  a  poet.  He  must  also  be  regarded  as  one  of 
the  earliest  and  one  of  the  soundest  of  Chaucer  and  Shakespeare  scholars ; 
and  his  introduction  to  the  Bigelow  Papers  contains  a  very  important 
philological  discussion  of  the  New  England  dialect.    He  might  very  well 


HISTORY   OF   ENGLISH    PHILOLOGY FLUGEL  33 

be  the  leader  of  American  dialect  lore.  F.  J.  Child's  services  to  EngHsh 
philology  are  not  confined  to  his  early  masterly  Observations  on  the  Lan- 
guage of  Gower  and  Chaucer  (1862-66),  valuable  not  only  in  the  history 
of  Middle  English  inflections,  pronunciation,  and  metrics,  but  also  of 
Middle  English  syntax.  To  him  we  owe  ultimately,  as  Dr.  Furnivall  so 
charmingly  tells  us,  the  Chaucer  Society  and  the  Ballad  Society.  But 
the  one  completed  masterpiece  of  English  philology  which  America  may 
be  proud  of  is  his  collection  of  Ballads  (1883-94),  of  fundamental  and 
lasting  importance :  a  monument  of  research,  of  broad  scholarship,  sound 
taste,  and  critical  method,  without  its  equal, — a  work  further  revealing 
a  great  personality. 

As  the  last  great  masterpiece  of  American  philological  research — 
unfortunately  not  yet  completed — we  recognize  of  course  what  its  author 
modestly  calls  "A  New  Variorum  Edition"  of  Shakespeare,  a  work  which, 
since  the  publication  of  its  first  volume  in  1873,  has  been  growing  not 
only  in  size  but  importance ;  a  work  each  volume  of  which  reveals  fur- 
ther the  stupendous  breadth  of  scholarship,  the  critical  acumen,  and  the 
delightful  personality  of  its  author,  Dr.  Furness. 


I  am  at  the  end  of  my  survey : 

Heard  are  the  voices, 
Heard  are  the  sages — 
The  world  and  the  ages. 

The  achievements  in  our  field  have  been  so  great  that  the  temptation 
is  near  to  fall  into  the  attitude  of  "rest  and  be  thankful,"  to  give  over  to 
the  feeling  "Wie  wir  es  dann  so  herrlich  weit  gebracht" ;  but  the  truth 
of  another  word  of  Goethe's  is  equally  great: 

"Was  du  ererbt  von  deinen  Vatern  hast, 
Erwirb  es,  um  es  zu  besitzen." 

Standing  still  is  falling  back ;  only  by  renewed,  unceasing  critical  work 
can  a  science  live  and  grow.  New  problems  are  presenting  themselves 
daily, — great  problems,  worthy  of  our  life,  full  of  promise,  and  worthy 
of  a  great  future. 

The  net  gain  of  all  the  past  endeavors  in  the  field  of  English  phil- 
ology seems  to  consist  in  (i)  the  recognition  of  the  aim  and  purpose  of 
philology  as  the  comprehensive  science  of  the  life  of  the  human  soul  as 
revealed  in  the  zvord ;   and  (2)  the  absolute  recognition  of  the  historical 


34 


FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 


method  as  applied  to  all  the  different  branches.  The  story  of  the  develop- 
ment of  this  recognition  is  the  history  of  English  philology:  it  dawned  in 
the  seventeenth  century,  and  was  worked  out  in  the  period  between  Hickes 
and  Grimm.  It  had  not  to  wait  for  Darwin,  as  some  people  seem  to  think ; 
on  the  contrary,  philological  sciences  may  proudly  assert  that  the  care- 
ful observation  of  the  development  of  its  object  was  an  estabhshed  work- 
ing principle  with  them  before  it  was  ever  applied  to  the  natural  sciences. 
It  was  the  working  principle  of  Junius,  Wallis,  and  Hickes  in  the  six- 
teenth century.  The  recognition  of  the  historical  method  in  the  gram- 
matical field  was  accomplished  when  grammar  gave  up  being  categorical 
or  legislative,  when  it  emancipated  itself  from  the  'Thou  shalt"  of  medi- 
eval Latin  grammar,  from  practical  ends :  when  it  became  descriptive, 
observing  the  phenomena  as  they  are, — when  it  became  historical.  In 
the  lexicographical  field  this  method  was  established  when  the  dictionary, 
although  for  practical  purposes  still  arranged  in  the  unscientific  alpha- 
betical order,  gave  up  dictating  as  to  the  right  and  wrong  use  of  words, 
but  more  humbly  tried  to  serve  as  a  storehouse  of  information  as  to  word- 
history, — to  give  the  biography  of  words.  In  the  field  of  literary  history 
it  became  established  when  histories  of  literature  ceased  to  be  biographi- 
cal dictionaries,  catalogues  of  authors,  summaries  of  this  part  of  litera- 
ture or  that ;  when  private  individual  likes  and  dislikes  ceased  to  be  the 
standard  of  measuring;  when  literary  studies  ceased  to  be  directed  by  and 
to  depend  upon  individual  enjoyment  of  literature;  when  the  history  of 
literature  was  recognized  as  the  connected  account  of  literary  movements, 
as  one  of  the  most  important  disciplines  dealing  with  the  development  of 
the  intellectual  and  spiritual  life  of  mankind;  when  the  critique,  the 
caiiserie,  and  the  biography  became  history ;  when  dilettantism  gave  way 
to  science.  In  the  field  of  textual  criticism  this  recognition  became  estab- 
lished when  the  edited  texts  were  not  polished  up  and  wilfully  changed 
to  suit  the  linguistic  or  esthetic  standards  of  modern  times,  but  when  the 
purity  of  the  literary  tradition,  its  preservation  or  rehabilitation,  became 
the  editorial  ideal. 

That  it  took  a  long  time  for  this  critical-historical  method  to  conquer, 
that  there  were  relapses  and  standstills,  is  one  of  the  instructive  facts 
which  we  observe.  Some  of  the  important  problems  that  seem  to  be 
still  waiting  their  solution  are  these : 

In  the  grammatical  field  English  philology  still  lacks  a  comprehen- 
sive phonolog)^  of  Middle  English  dialects,  and  careful  investigations 
(phonological,  morphological,  and  lexicographical)  of  the  language  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  during  its  important  transition  period  from  Middle 
to  Modern  English. 


HISTORY   OF   ENGLISH    PHILOLOGY — FLUGEL  35 

Another  desideratum  is  a  comprehensive  historical  syntax  of  the  lan- 
guage. Lexicography  is  waiting  for  a  comprehensive  Anglo-Saxon  his- 
torical dictionary,  and  for  a  Middle  English  dictionary  based  on  exhaust- 
ive collections  of  the  Old  French  as  well  as  the  late  Latin  language.  Only 
after  these  preparatory  works  shall  be  completed,  will  a  final  history  of 
English  zi'ords  become  possible, — a  history  which  in  its  turn  will  serve 
as  a  basis  for  an  English  semasiology — for  which  the  fullness  of  time 
has  not  yet  come.  An  Old  English  onomasticon  is  still  waiting  for  its 
compiler.  In  the  field  of  English  antiquities  a  good  deal  of  systematic 
scholarly  work  is  still  to  be  done. 

As  faf  as  editions  and  texts  go,  the  relics  of  Anglo-Saxon  prose 
are  not  yet  completely  collected,  nor  are  the  glosses.  We  have  not  yet 
a  collection  of  the  earlier  EngHsh  songs  (to  the  sixteenth  century)  ;  no 
complete  collection  even  of  such  an  important  branch  as  the  historical 
songs.  Further,  we  want  critical,  conscientious  editions  of  all  the  Eliza- 
bethan and  Jacobean  dramatists.  And  finally,  the  History  of  English 
Literature  is  still  to  be  written. 

Drawing  some  lessons  from  the  history  of  English  philology,  we  see 
(i)  the  truth  of  Dollinger's  saying  that  all  progress  in  science  was 
brought  about  by  men  who  had  the  mastery  of  more  than  one  discipline 
and  study;  (2)  that  even  the  greatest  promoters  were  merely  links  in  a 
great  chain,  that  even  the  great  results  grew  from  small  beginnings,  and 
that  cooperation — unselfish,  international  cooperation — has  been  most 
fruitful  in  the  history  of  science;  (3)  that  the  highest  work  has  resulted 
from  a  clear  recognition  of  the  problems,  unselfish,  steady  devotion,  and 
true  enthusiasm.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  more  recent  class  of  scholars 
has  the  first  element,  but  lacks  the  proper  perspective,  the  courage  to 
tackle  great  problems,  and  that  divine  enthusiasm  which  inspired  the 
great  masters. 


DR.  FLUGEL  AS  A  SCHOLAR ' 

William  Dinsmore  Briggs 

THE  FIRST  important  piece  of  work  done  by  Dr.  Fliigel  was  his 
doctor's  thesis,  entitled  Thomas  Carlyles  Religiose  und  Sittliche 
Entwickhmg  und  Weltanschauung,  printed  in  1887.^  It  was 
divided  into  two  parts,  the  first  giving  a  sketch  of  Carlyle's  Hfe  from 
the  point  of  view  of  his  spiritual  development,  the  second  exam- 
ining the  nature  of  his  attitude  toward  the  universe.  Dr.  Fliigel 
apparently  did  not  intend  to  study  his  subject  from  a  critical 
and  comparative  standpoint ;  perhaps  he  felt  that  the  time  had 
not  yet  come  for  an  attempt  of  that  nature.  Carlyle  had  died 
but  the  day  before,  and  the  thunders  of  that  mighty  voice  still  reverber- 
ated among  the  hills.  The  extent  and  the  nature  of  his  influence  could 
not  yet  be  definitely  settled,  though  it  was  of  course  inevitable  that  mat- 
ters of  this  kind  should  be  touched  upon.  The  genesis  of  Carlyle's  ideas 
in  his  own  experience,  the  profound  influence  exerted  upon  him  by 
Goethe,  the  less  profound  influence  of  Schiller,  the  relation  of  Carlyle 
to  the  transcendental  philosophy,  contemporary  opinion  about  him, — none 
of  these  topics  could  be  entirely  avoided,  though  only  the  first  two  are 
discussed  systematically.  Such  a  genetic  account  of  Carlyle's  thought 
was  not,  however.  Dr.  Fliigers  primary  purpose ;  he  desired  rather  to 
give  an  accurate  description  of  what  that  thought  was  in  itself.  With 
clearness,  precision,  and  tact,  he  put  together  an  admirable  statement, 
largely  in  Carlyle's  own  words,  of  the  main  outlines  of  what  most  readers 
must  have  found  at  times  a  rather  puzzling  matter,  namely,  just  what  it 
was  that  Carlyle  thought  and  felt.  There  is  no  trace  of  an  attempt  to 
force  Carlyle's  ideas  into  a  preconceived  mould.  That  his  attitude  toward 
the  problem  of  slavery  was  inconsistent  with  his  general  scheme  and 
manner  of  thinking  and  feeling  is  frankly  recognized ;  no  efifort  is  made 
to  explain  the  fact  away.  The  question  of  Carlyle's  domestic  unhappiness, 
though  necessarily  mentioned  once  or  twice,  is  discreetly  left  to  one  side. 
Incidentally,  the  notes  and  text  furnish  much  information  as  to  Carlyle's 


'Condensed  from  an  address  delivered  January  14,  1915,  before  a  memorial 
meeting  of  the  University  Philological  Association. 

^Translated,  1891,  by  Jessica  Gilbert  Tyler,  as  Thomas  Carlyle's  Moral  and 
Religious  Development.  The  first  part,  the  appendices,  and  most  of  the  notes  were 
unfortunately  omitted. 


DR.    FLUGEL   AS   A    SCHOLAR  —  BRIGGS  37 

relation  to  German  thought.  Fronde's  opinion  of  the  book,  as  expressed 
in  a  letter  to  Dr.  Fliigel,  must  not  be  left  uncjuoted :  "Your  admirable 
little  book  is  the  first  sign  1  have  seen  of  an  independent  and  clear  in- 
sight into  Carlyle's  life,  work  and  character,  as  it  will  one  day  be  uni- 
versally recognized  by  all  mankind.  Leaving  out  Goethe,  Carlyle  was 
indisputably  the  greatest  man  (if  you  measure  greatness  by  the  perma- 
nent effect  he  has  and  will  produce  on  the  mind  of  mankind)  who  has 
appeared  in  Europe  for  centuries.  You  have  seen  into  this  and  know  how 
to  appreciate  it.  His  character  was  as  remarkable  as  his  intellect.  There 
has  been  no  man  at  all,  not  Goethe  himself,  who  in  thought  and  action 
was  so  consistently  true  to  his  noblest  instincts."  I  have  found  nothing  in 
the  book  to  prove  that  Dr  Fliigel  rated  Carlyle  quite  as  high  as  Froude 
places  him.  In  fact.  Dr.  Fliigel  is  very  careful  to  leave  somewhat  uncer- 
tain the  actual  extent  to  which  he  agrees  with  Carlyle.  But  if  we  may  very 
well  consider  Froude's  estimate  of  Carlyle  as  extravagant,  there  is  no  rea- 
son for  disagreeing  with  his  estimate  of  the  book.  If  one  cared  to  criticize 
Dr.  Fliigel's  work  at  all,  one  might,  from  a  quite  different  standpoint 
from  Froude's,  suggest  that  perhaps  it  was  not  Carlyle  the  thinker  that 
was  so  important  as  it  was  the  Carlyle  who  with  the  insight  of  genius 
seized  upon  certain  profound  ethical  truths  and  with  the  volcanic  power 
of  his  words  drove  them  deeply  home.  Carlyle  seems  to  me  to  have  been 
by  nature  incapable  of  creating  a  large  and  coherent  system  of  thought, 
and  to  analyze  his  Weltanschauung  is  to  enumerate  a  series  rather  of 
fiery  emotional  outbursts  than  of  carefully  coordinated  ideas.  Dr.  Fliigel 
would,  I  think,  in  reply  have  repudiated  the  distinction.  To  him  no 
philosophy  would  have  deserved  the  name  that  was  not  profoundly  im- 
pregnated with  feeling,  and  perhaps  it  would  have  been  the  second  ele- 
ment to  which  he  would  attach  the  greater  importance.  One  can  quite 
conceive  of  Dr.  Fliigel  choosing  rather  to  be  damned  with  Plato  than 
sainted  with  Aristotle. 

Dr.  Fliigel's  next  large  piece  of  work  was  the  publication  in  1889 
of  the  standard  critical  text  of  Sidney's  Astrophcl  and  Stella  and  Defence 
of  Poesie,  together  with  a  brief  account  of  Sir  Philip's  life.  The  volume 
is  of  considerable  importance  because,  in  addition  to  providing  a  sound 
text  and  apparatus,  it  contained  new  material  for  the  life  of  Sidney,  as 
well  as  acute  critical  observations  upon  his  works.  It  did  not,  however, 
embrace  all  of  the  results  of  Dr.  Fliigel's  researches  concerning  Sidney, 
nor  have  all  of  these  apparently  been  published.  Among  his  papers  is 
a  set  of  copies  of  the  letters  of  Sidney  obtained  as  the  result  of  prolonged 
examination  of  MS.  and  printed  sources  in  public  and  private  libraries 


38  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

throughout  Europe.  Some  one-third  of  these  letters  were  sent  to  press 
and  the  proof-sheets  are  also  among  the  papers.  Besides  these,  there  is 
the  second  revise  of  an  English  translation  of  the  life  mentioned  above, 
together  with  a  form-letter  dated  at  the  Clarendon  Press,  1892,  to  be  sent 
out  in  search  of  further  materials.  In  this  Dr.  Fliigel  states  his  inten- 
tion of  publishing  shortly  for  the  Clarendon  Press  an  edition  of  Sidney's 
letters.  We  can  only  suppose  that,  upon  removing  to  California  in  1892, 
and  becoming  more  and  more  occupied  with  his  work  on  Chaucer,  he 
found  the  design  impossible  of  execution. 

An  important  contribution  to  the  pedagogical  side  of  the  study  of 
English  literature  is  to  be  found  in  the  Neuenglisches  Lesebuch,  1895. 
In  the  preface  Dr.  Fliigel  gives  an  interesting  account  of  the  origin  of  this 
book,  according  to  which  it  w^as  merely  the  first  volume  of  a  series  which 
was  to  introduce  the  student  to  the  original  documents  by  giving  these  or 
extracts  from  these  in  as  accurate  a  form  as  possible.  This  volume  was 
the  only  portion  of  the  plan  carried  to  completion. 

The  preface  is  itself  a  deUghtful  piece  of  writing,  in  its  simplicity 
of  language,  its  frankness  of  confession,  and  its  enthusiastic  ideahsm. 
With  engaging  candor  Dr.  Fliigel  gives  us  glimpses  into  his  early  student 
life,  and  tells  how  he  excogitated  the  great  plan  of  which  this  volume 
is  the  earnest  during  the  course  of  a  sleepless  night  in  London.  With 
similar  candor  he  tells  us  of  the  many  difficulties  wdth  which  he  had  to 
contend  in  preparing  the  material,  of  the  many  faults  which  he  was  well 
aware  the  book  possessed.  And  it  must  be  admitted  that  it  had  its  share 
of  faults. 

I  have  called  this  book  an  important  contribution ;  and  I  see  no 
reason  for  weakening  the  assertion.  Yet  such  has  not  been  the  opinion 
of  all  scholars.  I  have  seen  three  reviews  of  it,  and  these  dififer  markedly 
in  character.  One  was  quite  laudatory,  the  second  praised  with  strong 
reservations,  the  third  condemned  harshly.  The  fairest  judgment  is 
without  question  that  in  the  Athenaeum  of  May  9,  1896,  and  the  follow- 
ing words  express  what  seems  to  me  to  be  the  truth :  "The  work  admits 
of  being  greatly  improved ;  but  even  in  its  present  shape  it  will  be  re- 
ceived wath  merited  gratitude  both  by  German  and  native  students  of 
English."  The  faults  which  the  book  exhibits  fall  apparently  into  two 
principal  classes.  First,  there  are  those  having  to  do  with  the  repro- 
duction of  the  documents,  arising  chiefly  out  of  the  difficulties  under 
which  the  material  was  made  ready  for  the  press.  Much  of  the  correct- 
ing and  of  the  collation  had  to  be  done  by  others,  with  the  result  that 
errors  appeared  in  considerable  numbers.     Unfortunate  as  this  state  of 


DR.    FLUGEL    AS   A    SCHOLAR BRIGGS 


39 


things  was,  it  did  not  by  any  means  destroy  the  usefulness  of  the  work. 
Secondly,  there  were  errors  of  a  purely  philological  nature,  and  these 
were  more  serious.  Nevertheless,  every  scholar,  even  the  greatest,  has 
to  pass  through  an  educational  stage  in  which  his  philological  equipment 
is  not  adequate  to  the  minutely  correct  execution  of  a  great  task.  The 
real  question  here  is  as  to  whether  the  work  we  are  considering  was 
worth  doing  in  spite  of  that  fact.  No  doubt  can  well  be  entertained  on 
that  point  when  one  considers  the  large  amount  of  valuable  material  con- 
tained in  the  text  and  annotations,  much  of  it  material  that  was  at  the 
time  new,  and  which  students  who  have  no  access  to  large  libraries  would 
even  now  find  difficulty  in  obtaining  elsewhere. 

In  the  first  volume  of  Representative  English  Comedies,  1903,  Dr. 
Fliigel  edited  Udall's  Ralph  Roister  Doister.  The  introduction  contains 
some  new  material  for  Udall's  life  and  shows  an  admirable  discretion 
in  the  interpretation  of  evidence.  But  what  makes  it  of  special  interest 
is  the  criticism  of  the  play  from  an  aesthetic  as  well  as  historical  point 
of  view.  Udall's  ghost  should  be  grateful  to  Dr.  Fliigel  for  showing  so 
clearly  just  what  the  Eton  schoolmaster  contributed  to  the  development 
of  English  comedy,  and  for  pointing  out  that  he  was  something  more 
than  the  mere  meritorious  imitator  of  the  classics  that  most  of  us  have 
been  languidly  content  to  believe  him.  The  introduction,  too,  is  written 
in  English,  an  EngUsh  which  is,  as  a  matter  of  course,  clear  and  correct, 
and  which  has  also  idiomatic  liveliness,  adapting  itself  to  the  purposes  of 
argument  as  well  as  to  those  of  literary  criticism  and  humorous  comment. 
Some  of  it  even  has  the  sparkle  of  Dr.  Fliigel's  talk,  and  reminds  us  how 
completely  at  home  he  was  in  a  tongue,  which,  if  we  may  believe  his 
father's  testimony,  he  did  not  at  first  acquire  any  too  easily. 

In  1907,  in  the  second  edition  of  Wiilker's  Geschichte  der  Englischen 
Literatur,  Dr.  Fliigel  published  an  account  of  the  literature  of  America. 
This  account,  of  which  a  second  edition  was  to  have  been  brought  out 
this  year,  did  not  profess  to  be  an  elaborate  history  of  the  subject,  but 
to  present  only  the  main  outlines,  and  occupied  only  one  hundred  and 
twenty-eight  pages,  besides  the  bibliographical  material.  Brief  though 
it  be,  it  is  a  remarkable  piece  of  work.  I  confess  freely  that  it  gave  me 
a  respect  for  my  native  literature  that  I  had  not  previously  entertained. 
American  literature  is  seen  in  a  true  perspective,  with  a  natural  distri- 
bution of  light  and  shade.  The  author  of  this  'text-book'  understands 
that  his  business  is  not  merely  to  supply  a  certain  amount  of  information, 
but  to  make  the  student  feel  the  real  worth  of  the  subject.  Breadth  of 
view  combines  with  exact  knowledge  and  sympathetic  feeling,  with  the  re- 


40  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

suit  that  substantial  justice  is  done.  There  is  a  clearing  away  of  dead 
wood;  the  object  contemplated  assumes  definite  outline,  not  through  any 
artificial  rearrangement  of  lines  and  surfaces,  but  through  an  emphasis 
rightly  distributed.  And  by  virtue  of  an  instant  response,  a  quick  sym- 
pathy, a  genuine  humor,  a  clear,  energetic,  and  flexible  style.  Dr.  Fliigel 
leads  us  to  see  what  we  are  surprised  that  we  had  not  seen  for  ourselves. 

Let  me  illustrate  as  well  as  can  be  done  by  mere  figures  this  sense 
of  proportion.  Only  fifteen  pages  are  given  to  the  long  period  from 
1607  to  1765,  and  of  these  fifteen,  six  are  occupied  with  Franklin,  whose 
literary  activity  extended  of  course  beyond  the  latter  date.  Six  pages 
are  devoted  to  the  years  1765- 1788,  and  of  these  two  are  given  up  to  the 
Declaration  of  Independence.  In  passing,  I  may  remark  on  the  fact  that 
Dr.  Fliigel's  discussion  of  this  document  as  a  piece  of  literature  is  a 
striking  example  of  the  sureness  of  his  literary  criticism.  Recognizing, 
as  we  all  must,  the  fundamentally  unoriginal  character  of  many  of  its 
ideas  (though  he  lends  no  countenance  to  the  charge  of  plagiarism)  and 
the  visionary  or  doctrinaire  quality  that  pervades  so  much  of  it  (since 
after  all  men  do  not,  as  an  historical  fact,  appear  to  have  been  created 
either  free  or  equal),  he  recognizes  at  the  same  time  the  splendid  ade- 
quacy with  which  the  ideas  are  expressed  and  the  extraordinary  rhetori- 
cal merits  which  have  made  the  document  at  once  a  political  manifesto 
and  a  national  creed.  Yet,  neither  in  this  criticism,  nor  in  the  prominence 
given  to  Franklin,  nor  elsewhere  in  the  volume  is  there  any  confusion  of 
historical  with  Uterary  judgments.  A  piece  of  writing  is  not  necessarily 
a  piece  of  literature  because  it  is  of  prime  historical  importance,  and  the 
Declaration  would  not  have  received  its  two  pages  were  it  not  for  the 
fact  that  its  qualities  as  a  piece  of  literature  were  partly  the  cause  of  its 
historical  importance.  In  this  way  there  is  often  a  peculiarly  intimate 
association  between  literary  and  historical  criticism,  and  the  appearance 
for  instance  of  the  xA.uthorized  Version  in  161 1  is  for  one  and  the  same 
reason  an  event  of  supreme  interest  for  both  the  literary  and  the  histori- 
cal student. 

It  is  not  of  course  that  one  always  agrees  with  Dr.  Fliigel's  judg- 
ments. I  cannot  feel  that  he  really  understood  Huckleberry  Finn,  though 
indeed  he  spoke  highly  of  it,  and  I  venture  to  think  that  his  enthusiasm 
for  the  American  ideal  of  liberty  and  his  abhorrence  of  slavery  led  him 
to  find  greater  merits  in  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  than  that  work  possesses. 
Was  it  not  a  touch,  too,  of  German  sentimentalism  that  made  him  speak 
so  warmly  of  the  deathbed  scene  of  Eva,  and  that  made  him  say  that  the 
book  stirs  the  heart  of  the  reader  with  greater  power  than  any  other 
book  since — The  Sorrows  of  Werther? 


DR.    FLUGEL   AS   A    SCHOLAR BRIGGS  4I 

But  these  are  the  veriest  trifles.  In  particular  matters  one  differs 
with  any  critic.  Of  greater  interest  to  me  is  the  fact  that  Dr.  Fliigel 
sedulously  avoids  the  discussion  of  two  points  upon  which  he  could  have 
spoken  to  our  great  profit,  but  which  he  undoubtedly  felt  that  he  could 
not  even  touch  upon  within  the  space  at  his  command.  Nevertheless,  I 
wish  that  he  might  have  seen  his  way  to  lengthening  his  sketch  by  fifteen 
or  twenty  pages  and  have  said  something  about  the  relation  of  American 
literature  to  the  general  conditions  under  which  it  has  grown  up,  and 
something  about  what  constitutes  the  difference  between  American  litera- 
ture and  English,  how  far  that  difference  is  merely  one  of  name  rather 
than  substance. 

Perhaps  the  most  striking  excellence  of  the  volume  is  the  remarkable 
success  with  which  Dr.  Fliigel  achieved  two  results :  He  produced  a 
book  which,  by  virtue  of  the  amount  of  exact  information  it  contains 
and  of  its  clear  arrangement  and  definiteness  of  statement,  is  a  school- 
room manual  of  the  best  type ;  he  produced  a  book  which,  by  virtue  of  its 
lucid  and  sound  criticism,  its  vigor  and  independence,  its  power  of  arous- 
ing interest  in  its  subject,  has  so  far  as  I  know,  no  rival  in  its  own  field. 
It  is  unfortunate  that  the  best  introduction  to  the  study  of  American 
literature  should  be  at  the  disposal  of  German  students  only,  whereas  in 
our  own  schools  we  must  perforce  rest  contented  with  books  that  benumb 
rather  than  inspire. 

At  this  point  I  may  introduce  the  subject  of  Dr.  Fliigel's  activity 
in  the  field  of  periodical  literature.  In  1889  he  became  associate  editor 
of  Anglia  and  remained  such  until  his  death,  though  naturally  after  his 
removal  to  California  he  could  not  take  his  former  active  part  in  conduct- 
ing the  journal.  In  1890  he  founded  the  Beiblatt  zur  Anglia,  to  which  he 
remained  during  the  rest  of  his  life  a  frequent  contributor  of  notices  and 
reviews.  He  published  something  over  fifty  articles  in  various  periodi- 
cals.^  I  cannot  of  course  give  a  fist  of  these  articles  here,  but  I  may 
emphasize  the  fact  that  to  the  scholar  such  a  list  would  convey  much 
besides  the  bare  titles  themselves,  and  I  may  quote  some  words  employed 
by  Dr.  Fliigel  himself  when,  in  addressing  this  association  less  than  a 
year  ago,  he  was  confronted  with  a  similar  problem.  "That  long  list  of 
265  papers,  then,  which  I  have  not  quoted  at  length  in  the  goodness  of 
my  heart,  is  not  a  dry  catalogue  of  titles,  but  the  echo  of  many  a  spoken 
word  carefully  premeditated,  pondered  over,  and  uttered— this  dry  list 
has  a  soul,  it  is  like  a  gallery  of  ancestral  portraits  which,  if  visited  at 
the  proper  time  and  in  the  proper  frame  of  mind,  is  like  any  other  an- 

^  See  Bibliography,  post. 


42  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

cestral  gallery — ghost-haunted."  It  would  require,  however,  an  inspira- 
tion I  have  never  enjoyed  to  enliven  the  series  of  Dr.  Fliigel's  titles  and 
make  visible  what  lies  behind  them,  the  assiduous  labor,  the  patient  medi- 
tation, the  enthusiasm  that  burned  like  a  clear,  brilliant  flame. 

It  would  be  superfluous  to  lay  stress  upon  the  breadth  of  the  field 
of  erudition  covered  by  these  papers,  an  erudition  that  expatiates  at  ease 
whether  dealing  with  the  attitude  taken  toward  the  study  of  language  by 
the  fathers  of  the  church,  the  philological  proclivities  of  Roger  Bacon, 
the  annotation  of  a  sixteenth-century  Christmas  song,  the  sources  of 
Carlyle's  thought,  the  remote  recesses  of  the  intricately  involved  jungle 
of  mediaeval  learning,  or  the  comparatively  virgin  forest  of  American 
literature.  Dr.  Fliigel  was  not,  and  did  not  pretend  to  be  a  universal  schol- 
ar of  the  old  type,  for  the  times  are  past  when  a  man  took  all  knowledge 
for  his  province.  Nor  was  he  a  polyglot  like  Mezzofanti.  But  he  could 
handle  the  literature  of  his  subject  in  at  least  twelve  diflferent  languages, 
five  principal  dialects,  and  a  multitude  of  subordinate  ones.  His  subject 
was  philology  in  the  broad  sense  of  the  term,  not  the  narrow,  and  he 
himself  defined  philology  as  "the  comprehensive  science  of  the  human 
soul  as  revealed  in  the  word."  He  was  a  lover  of  words  because  he  was 
a  lover  of  life.  He  loved  life  because  he  was  himself  tingling  with  life. 
No  aspect  of  Hfe  failed  to  ehcit  from  him  a  response,  whether  of  liking 
or  aversion.  And  if  he  did  not  pretend  to  be  a  universal  scholar  of  the 
old  type,  he  had  at  least  some  of  that  type's  most  ennobling  traits,  which 
I  may  be  allowed  to  display  in  his  own  words.  At  the  end  of  his  presi- 
dential address  before  the  Pacific  Coast  Branch  of  the  American  Philo- 
logical Association  he  said:  "We  see  that  the  highest  work  has  resulted 
from  unselfish  devotion,  a  clear  recognition  of  the  problems  and  true 
enthusiasm.  It  seems  that  the  more  recent  class  of  scholars  has  the  first 
element,  but  lacks  the  proper  perspective,  the  courage  to  tackle  great 
problems  and  that  divine  enthusiasm  which  inspired  the  great  Masters," 
Even  a  bitter  enemy  could  not  deny  to  him  the  perspective,  the  courage, 
and  the  divine  enthusiasm. 

It  will  interest  you  not  a  little  to  know  that  he  read  twenty  papers 
before  this  association,  of  which  about  one-half  seem  to  have  been  pub- 
lished or  utilized  for  publication.  He  read  seven  papers  before  the  Pacific 
Coast  Branch  of  the  American  Philological  Association,  including  the 
address  which  he  delivered  as  president  in  1901.  Abstracts  of  five  of 
these  are  to  be  found  in  the  Transactions,  and  much  of  the  material  was 
used  in  various  ways.  He  was  general  editor  of  Section  II  of  the  Belles 
Lettres  Series.    In  the  many  years  of  his  active  connection  with  Stanford 


DR.    FLUGEL   AS   A    SCHOLAR  —  BRIGGS  '  43 

(he  spent  at  least  three  years  in  Europe),  he  gave  an  average  of  about 
one  and  one-fourth  new  courses  every  year,  an  average  which,  when  we 
consider  the  nature  of  his  subject  and  the  small  number  of  seriously- 
minded  graduate  students  at  this  institution,  is  instructive  of  his  patience, 
his  industry,  and  his  hopefulness.  You  will  be  pleased  as  well  as  inter- 
ested to  learn  that  of  late  he  had  come  to  feel  even  more  than  hopeful  and 
that  only  a  few  months  ago  he  told  me  that  he  regarded  the  work  done 
with  his  graduate  classes  in  the  last  two  or  three  years  with  much  satis- 
faction. 

Furnivall  pointed  out  many  years  ago  the  necessity  of  a  Chaucer 
concordance,  and  a  certain  amount  of  more  or  less  unsystematic  work  in 
accordance  with  his  suggestions  had  been  done  by  various  persons  when 
in  1890  Dr.  Fliigel  volunteered  to  carry  on  the  task.  Whose  hand  it  was 
that  brought  the  slips  into  the  worse  than  chaotic  condition  of  which 
Dr.  Flugel  speaks  in  an  article  addressed  to  Furnivall  I  have  not  learned, 
though  my  impression  is  that  there  had  been  some  futile  attempt  at  col- 
laboration. It  was  characteristic  of  Dr.  Fliigel,  whose  brain  teemed  with 
grandiose  visions  of  scholarly  achievement  and  whose  indomitable  energy 
and  then  robust  health  made  all  things  seem  possible,  that  the  compara- 
tively modest  plan  of  a  concordance  should  be  rapidly  expanded  into  that 
of  a  dictionary.  It  was  in  the  same  way  characteristic  of  his  sanguine 
nature  that  this  dictionary  should  be  conceived  on  a  scale,  which,  as  he 
came  reluctantly  to  perceive,  was  beyond  the  powers  of  any  one  man  to 
realize.  And,  characteristically  again,  the  reduced  scale  was  itself  one 
that  would  have  made  Quintilian  stare  and  gasp. 

Yet  for  him  this  restricted  scale  was  reahzable.  It  must  be  empha- 
sized that  Dr.  Flugel  was  pursuing  no  will  o'  the  wisp,  no  fleeting  phan- 
tom that  ever  persistently  evaded  his  enclosing  arms.  Already  could  he 
descry  the  distant  land.     He  might  already  have  exclaimed, 

Jam  tandem  Italiae  fugientis  prendimus  oras. 

For  the  completion  of  the  plan  was  of  late  years  a  matter  merely  of 
arithmetic.  He  knew  how  rapidly  the  collated  material  could  be  digested 
into  form,  how  much  each  week  would  add  to  the  orderly  pile  of  finished 
manuscript;  he  knew  the  extent  and  nature  of  the  work  that  remained 
to  be  done.  It  seemed  highly  probable  that  by  the  end  of  1922  he  could 
write  Finis.  The  equation  contained,  indeed,  one  unknown  factor,  that 
of  health,  but  it  was  only  recently  that  this  factor  became  of  ominous 
import.  No  scholar  is  rash  or  visionary  who  undertakes  a  work  which 
he  has  every  reason  to  believe  that  he  can  finish  by  the  age  of  sixty. 


44  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

Upon  this  point  I  wish  to  throw  the  very  greatest  stress,  for  I  know  that 
both  here  at  Stanford  and  elsewhere  Dr.  Fliigel  was  not  infrequently  re- 
proached with  grasping  at  the  air.  Why,  it  was  asked,  did  he  not  limit 
his  plan  in  such  a  way  that  he  might  have  some  rational  hope  of  accom- 
plishment? Why,  indeed!  Is  an  engineer  unpractical  because  he  under- 
takes to  build  an  aqueduct  that  will  demand  ten  years  to  finish?  Is  a 
statesman  visionary  because  in  his  youth  he  initiates  a  policy  that  will 
not  come  to  fruition  until  his  hairs  are  grey?  And  yet  death  comes  at 
any  unexpected  moment  like  a  thief  in  the  night.  It  is  an  ancient  and  an 
approved  maxim :  Judge  not  of  the  wisdom  of  a  design  by  the  outcome. 
Wisdom  is  shown  in  the  estimation  of  present  chances,  in  the  skilful 
adaptation  of  means  to  ends,  in  the  prudent  utilization  of  resources.  The 
outcome  is  in  the  hands  of  fortune,  on  the  knees  of  the  gods.  Initia  in 
potestate  nostra  sunt,  de  eventu  fortuna  indicat.  There  lies  no  reproach 
against  Dr.  Fliigel  of  being  rash,  visionary,  or  unpractical.  And  no 
doubt  he  confidently  believed,  with  that  idealism  of  nature  that  consti- 
tuted so  large  a  part  of  his  personal  charm  and  that  counted  for  so  much 
in  determining  the  quality  of  his  learning,  that  even  if  he  should  die 
before  completing  his  task,  yet  in  the  present  advanced  state  of  scholar- 
ship, somewhere,  somehow  there  would  be  found  a  man  who  would  bring 
the  work  to  full  perfection.* 

I  have  been  asked  what  is  the  worth,  the  value  of  the  uncompleted 
dictionary.  Is  a  dictionary  half-completed  worth  anything  at  all?  There 
seems  to  be  an  idea  abroad  that  the  worth  of  a  dictionary  may  be  judged 
in  some  kind  of  inverse  ratio  to  the  degree  of  completion.  Such  may 
perhaps  be  the  case  with  a  work  of  art,  a  poem,  for  instance,  the  object 
of  which  is  to  create  in  the  reader  an  emotional  state  or  to  carry  him 
through  a  series  of  emotional  experiences  of  which  the  outcome  is  a 
certain  emotional  equilibrium,  a  certain  harmony  of  feeling.  The  whole 
must  exist  before  the  parts  can  produce  their  proper  impression,  and  in 
a  work  of  art  incompleteness  is  a  form  of  imperfection.  In  a  business 
enterprise  to  stop  half-way  may  be  to  make  y^our  last  state  worse  than 
your  first.  But  such  is  not  the  case  with  a  dictionary.  The  worth  of  a 
dictionary  half-completed  is  only  a  little  less  than  one-half  the  worth  of 
the  same  dictionary  in  a  finished  state.  The  completed  portion  of  the 
Chaucer  Dictionary  can  be  used  by  scholars,  for  whom  it  was  of  course 
primarily  intended,  almost  as  well  as  if  the  whole  were  in  existence.^ 

*  The  dictionary  will  be  carried  on  by  Dr.  Tatlock. 

^  Of  course,  it  cannot  be  effectively  used  for  the  study  of  groups  of  words  of 
similar  or  related  meanings  unless  by  good  fortune  the  group  chances  to  fall  within 
the  first  seven  letters  of  the  alphabet. 


DR.    FLUGEL   AS   A    SCHOLAR  —  BRIGGS  45 

Were  there  no  prospect  of  a  single  page  being  added  to  the  existing 
manuscript,  Dr.  Flugel's  labors  would  still  have  been  well  spent. 

Dr.  Fliigel  had  at  various  times  a  good  deal  of  assistance,  but  until 
recently,  when  Dr.  Kennedy  began  to  help  him  in  a  way  for  which  Dr. 
Fliigel  found  words  of  very  high  praise,  that  assistance  was  entirely  of  a 
clerical  nature.  He  was  occasionally  able  to  utilize  his  graduate  students 
in  the  study  of  special  problems  and  in  the  examination  of  related  litera- 
ture, yet  the  most  they  could  do  was  to  provide  material  which  only  he 
could  work  up  into  shape.  Of  copyists  and  writers-out  of  slips  he  neces- 
sarily had  many  at  various  times,  for  the  personal  and  unaided  collection 
of  the  material  would  have  been  impossible.  Nevertheless,  he  did  him- 
self an  incredible  amount  of  work  of  just  this  kind,  for  these  copyists 
were  of  various  sorts,  and  a  good  deal  of  what  some  of  them  did  he 
practically  had  to  do  over  again.  The  total  amount  of  material  finally 
got  together  amounted  to  something  over  one  million  five  hundred  thous- 
and slips,  in  addition  to  large  collections  of  a  collateral  nature.  This 
material  he  was  casting  into  shape  with  remarkable  rapidity.  In  the  six 
months  from  December,  1913,  to  June,  1914,  he  worked  through  thirty 
thousand  of  these  slips.  As  nearly  as  I  have  been  able  to  calculate,  the 
dictionary  is  about  seven-sixteenths  finished;  Dr.  Fliigel  was  at  work 
on  the  word  'hewe'  at  the  time  of  his  death.  Most  of  this  manuscript  is 
practically  ready  for  press,  but  he  intended  to  subject  it  all  to  a  final 
looking-over,  and  there  are  a  few  articles  not  yet  supplied. 

Why  was  not  the  manuscript  pubUshed  as  it  was  prepared,  since  the 
Carnegie  Foundation  stood  ready  to  undertake  the  work?  There  were 
several  reasons  for  Dr.  Fliigel's  course  in  this  matter.  In  the  first  place, 
there  were  problems  connected  with  the  actual  printing  that  could  not 
easily  be  solved,  and  into  which  it  is  not  necessary  to  go  on  this  occasion. 
Secondly,  as  I  have  elsewhere  pointed  out.  Dr.  Fliigel  had  for  some  time 
realized  that  the  work  might  be  interrupted  in  just  the  way  it  actually 
was,  and  naturally  desired  to  expend  all  of  his  energy  and  time  upon  that 
part  to  which  his  learning  and  experience  were  indispensable.  The  print- 
ing could,  if  necessary,  be  supervised  by  others.  The  preparation  of  the 
copy  demanded  him.  The  third  reason  can  perhaps  be  best  given  in 
words  taken  from  his  open  letter  to  Weir  Mitchell  in  1913. 

"You  may  ask  now  what  others  are  asking  me  almost  every  week, 
when  the  whole  of  my  book  will  be  accessible  in  printed  shape,  and  here 
again  I  answer,  and,  I  hope,  not  evasively,  that,  at  this  early  stage  and 
before  the  whole  MS.  shall  be  completed,  I  cannot  consider  even  the 
printing. 


46  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

"I  have  now  about  three  days  weekly  for  the  MS.  work,  and  the  MS. 
so  far  completed  would  fill  at  least  two  quarto  volumes  of  one  thousand 
pages  each  (with  three  columns  to  the  page).*^  If  I  should  now,  in  order 
to  publish  two  such  volumes  in  reasonable  time,  receive  weekly  the  proofs 
of  only  thirty  columns  (ten  pages),  the  mere  careful  proofreading  of 
thousands  of  quotations  would  take  the  daylight  of,  at  least,  two  days, 
leaving  me  only  one  day  for  new  MS. !  This  would  delay  the  finishing  of 
the  MS.  in  such  a  way  that  twenty-one  years  would  elapse,  instead  of 
the  seven  on  which  I  count. 

"Ergo,  the  whole  question  of  printing  now  and  under  my  present 
conditions  cannot  be  considered  by  me.  Fata  viani  invenient.  In  six  or 
seven  years  (if  I  live)  with  one  or  two  excellent  proof-readers  continu- 
ously engaged  for  this  work,  and  with  better-schooled  printers  than  can 
be  found,  at  least  in  this  western  part  of  the  United  States,  the  book 
might  and,  I  hope,  will  be  'rushed'  through  the  press  as  fast  as  the  wheels 
can  move." 

At  one  time,  some  years  ago,  Dr.  Fliigel  gave  me  an  account  of  his 
plan  that  made  it  evident  that  then  he  had  something  more  even  than  a 
Chaucer  dictionary  in  mind ;  he  then  intended  to  make  his  work  a  dic- 
tionary of  Middle  English  for  the  vocabulary  of  Chaucer,  in  which 
Gower,  Wiclif,  Trevisa,  Langland,  and  Hoccleve  should  be  second  in 
importance  only  to  Chaucer  himself,  and  in  which  the  less  important 
writers  should  receive  proportionate  attention.  One  might  infer  from 
the  language  of  his  remarks  to  Furnivall  in  the  article  above  referred  to 
that  he  had  abandoned  this  project,  but  I  have  reason  to  think  that  he 
was  unduly  modest  in  that  description  of  his  revised  plan  and  that  he 
had  not  changed  his  design  to  quite  the  extent  that  might  be  supposed. 

In  deaUng  with  each  of  Chaucer's  words,  Dr.  Fliigel's  object  was  to 
place  on  record  every  fact  about  it  that  could  possibly  be  of  interest  to 
scholars.  Thus  any  peculiarity  of  form  exhibited  in  any  of  the  MSS. 
or  early  editions  was  set  down.''  The  various  spellings  that  the  MSS. 
exhibited  were  classified  and  their  relative  numbers  given  as  accurately 
as  possible.  DifiFerences  of  pronunciation,  metrical  peculiarities,  peculiar- 
ities of  rime,  were  similarly  treated.  The  history  of  each  word,  whether 
of  English  or  foreign  parentage,  was  minutely  investigated  in  its  native 
haunts,  for  Dr.  Fliigel  realized  to  the  full  that  shades  of  meaning  dis- 


*  Dr.  Fliigel  means  the  MS.  of  A,  B,  C,  D,  E.  The  finished  dictionary  would 
then  fill  about  six  such  volumes. 

'For  a  list  of  the  MSS.  and  early  editions  consulted,  see  the  article  entitled 
Prolegomena  and  Side-notes,  1911. 


DR.    FLUGEL   AS   A    SCHOLAR  —  BRIGGS  47 

played  by  a  borrowed  word  can  often  be  explained  only  by  the  shades 
of  meaning  that  it  bore  originally.  He  saw  also  what  not  all  lexicog- 
raphers have  clearly  perceived,  that  illustrative  quotations  should  be 
sufficiently  full.  When  only  a  line  is  given,  a  particular  word  contained 
in  it  will  often  seem  to  have  a  meaning  quite  different  from  that  which 
it  bears  when  a  passage  of  three,  four,  or  five  lines  confronts  us. 
Remote  context  is  sometimes  quite  as  important  as  immediate.  I  have 
more  than  once  heard  Dr.  Fliigel  complain  that  he  often  found  the 
quotations  on  his  slips  too  short,  and  that  he  was  constantly  com- 
pelled to  resort  to  the  original  and  himself  add  what  was  necessary  in 
order  to  make  the  quotations  adequately  illustrative.  Yet  another  feature 
of  his  method  that  must  not  be  passed  over  was  the  care  with  which  he 
ascertained  the  exact  chronological  order  in  which  the  various  mean- 
ings of  a  given  word  made  their  appearance  in  its  development.  Obvious- 
ly, if  this  chronology  be  misstated,  the  intellectual  history  of  the  race  is 
to  that  extent  falsified.  I  can  remember  several  instances  in  which  he 
pointed  out  to  me  that  in  the  New  English  Dictionary  just  this  error  had 
been  made,  and  the  history  of  a  given  word  inverted.  Sometimes,  it  may 
be  noted,  the  mistake  was  made  just  because  the  quotation  supplied  by 
the  copyist  was  not  long  enough,  and  so  the  word  in  the  particular 
passage  was  not  rightly  understood.  And  I  can  also  remember  what  a 
source  of  innocent  delight  it  was  to  Dr.  Fliigel  to  discover,  as  he  not  in- 
frequently did,  earlier  quotations  than  those  in  that  great  work,  and  thus 
to  antedate  the  word  and  lengthen  its  history.* 

Sir   Philip  Sidney,   with   characteristically  pregnant   phrase,   wrote 


'Several  sample  extracts  from  the  Chaucer  Dictionary  were  printed  by  Dr. 
Fliigel  in  the  Matske  Memorial  Volume  and  in  Anglia  for  191 1  and  1913.  These 
articles  differ  from  one  another,  however,  in  some  points  that  make  it  not  quite 
clear  in  just  what  form  the  material  would  have  finally  appeared.  Thus  in  the 
Matzke  volume,  though  he  tells  us  that  the  article  is  from  the  dictionary,  many 
footnotes  are  employed,  and  Dr.  Kennedy  informs  me  that  Dr.  Flugel  more  than 
once  spoke  of  inserting  footnotes  in  the  dictionary.  But  in  an  article  printed  later 
and  headed  'Specimens  of  the  Chaucer  Dictionary,'  no  footnotes  are  found,  and  I 
am  inclined  to  think  that  he  had  given  up  the  idea.  At  least  no  material  appears 
to  be  thrown  into  footnotes  in  the  MS.  Again,  in  the  article  addressed  to  Furnivall 
he  used  language  indicating  that  the  article  is  made  up  of  'raw  material,'  'which 
would  become  antiquated  in  a  short  time'  and  which  he  intended  to  exclude.  Yet 
Dr.  Kennedy  again  tells  me  that  he  cannot  see  that  the  illustrative  pieces  in  this 
article  differ  at  all  from  the  finished  MS.  I  think  that  the  explanation  of  at  least 
some  of  these  apparent  discrepancies  may  very  probably  be  found  in  the  suggestion 
that  in  these  various  articles  he  was  experimenting  somewhat  as  to  the  best  method 
of  presentation. 


48  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

once  of  "this  purifying  of  wit,  this  enriching^  of  memory,  enabhng  of 
judgment,  and  enlarging  of  conceit,  which  commonly  we  call  learning." 
Yet  even  more  than  this  passage  suggests  did  Dr.  IHiigel  enlist  in  the 
service  of  his  chief  work  every  element  in  a  richly  compounded  person- 
ality. Upon  the  dryest  and  most  unpromising  details,  upon  the  very 
drudgery  of  his  profession,  he  brought  enthusiastically  to  bear  all  the 
facets  of  his  intellect,  all  the  highly  developed  powers  of  his  mind,  fructi- 
fying his  labor  with  sympathy  and  feeling.  Thus  what  he  accompUshed 
is  peculiarly  difficult  of  analysis,  because  it  is  an  emotional  as  well  as  an 
intellectual  product,  one  in  which  the  various  elements  fuse  and  inter- 
penetrate. Familiar  with  the  most  exacting  methods  of  scientific  inves- 
tigation, he  shrank  from  no  labor  in  applying  them  in  all  their  elaborate 
fullness  of  intricate  detail.  Yet  the  mechanics  of  his  profession,  which 
to  so  many  scholars  furnish  practically  their  sole  means  of  achieving 
results,  were  for  him  in  no  sense  all-sufficient.  A  sound  methodology  is 
indispensable  to  the  student ;  of  equal  importance,  however,  are  tact  and 
discretion  in  its  use,  insight,  that  power  of  discriminating  interpretation 
that,  in  so  far  as  it  is  not  an  innate  faculty,  is  the  fruit  of  character  and 
emotional  education.  When  all  of  these  combine  to  produce  a  work  of 
scholarship,  the  result  cannot  be  easily  dissected,  any  more  than  a  work 
of  literature  or  art.  Often,  as  in  the  case  of  a  dictionary,  the  results  of 
the  complex  critical  process  may  be  visible  only  in  the  shape  of  separate 
bits  of  information,  which,  to  the  laity,  appear  the  outcome  merely  of  a 
methodically  directed  industry.  So  in  the  case  of  the  Chancer  Dictionary, 
it  is  easy  to  state  the  plan,  the  scope,  the  purpose,  and  the  method.  It 
would  be  less  easy,  though  still  not  difficult,  to  convey  some  idea  of  the 
patience,  the  diligence,  the  fortitude  with  which  the  labor  was  carried 
on.  But  I  should  despair  of  making  plain  to  anyone  but  the  adept  the 
subtle  way  in  which  every  finer  and  more  delicate  quality  of  Dr.  Flugel's 
mind  and  heart  was  utilized  to  discharge  what  was  at  bottom  a  task  de- 
manding not  merely  philological  skill,  but  literary  sensitiveness,  not  mere- 
ly accumulated  knowledge,  but  all  the  higher  powers  of  the  critic  of 
poetry.  "To  readers  familiar  with  such  studies,  no  comment  is  necessary, 
and  to  those  who  are  unfamiliar  with  them,  no  form  of  statement  can 
convey  even  a  faint  impression  of  the  industry,  the  acumen,  and  the 
literary  skill  which  these  processes  required."  " 


*  From  Kittredge's  memorial  article  on  Child. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

1884.  Eine  Erinnerung  an  Schonaich.    Deutsches  Alterthum. 

1885.  Zu  Goethe's  Verhaltnis  zu  Carlyle.     Grencboten,  no.  38,  Sept.  17. 
1887.     Thomas  Carlyle's  ReHgiose  und  Sittliche  Entwicklung  und  Welt- 
anschauung. 

Der  Briefwechsel  zwischen  Goethe  und  Carlyle.     Grensboten,  no. 
15,  April  7. 
1889.     Pyramys  and  Tysbe.     Anglia,  XII,  13. 

Liedersammlungen  des  16.  Jahrhunderts,  besonders  aus  der  zeit 

Heinrich's  VIII.    Anglia,  XII,  225,  585,  and  XXVI,  94. 
Ein  Brief  Emersons.    Anglia,  XII,  454. 

1 89 1.  Thomas  Carlyle's  Moral  and  Religious  Development.     From  the 

German  by  Jessica  Gilbert  Tyler. 

Verschollene  Sonette.     Anglia,  XIII,  72. 

Kleine  Mitteilungen  zur  Litteraturgeschichte  des  16.  Jahrhunderts. 
Anglia,  XIII,  455. 

Beiblatt  zur  Anglia.  Erster  Band.  Founded  by  Dr.  Fliigel  in 
1890. 

Dean  Colet  und  die  griindung  der  St.  Paulsschule.  Anglia  Bei- 
blatt, I,  27s,  292,  330. 

1892.  Die  Gedichte  der  Konigin  Elizabeth.     Anglia,  XIV,  346. 
Kleinere  Mitteilungen  aus  Handschriften.    Anglia,  XIV,  463. 

1894.  Englische  Weihnachtslieder  aus  einer  Handschrift  des  Baliol  Col- 

lege zu   Oxford.     Forschungen   zur  Deutschen  Philologie: 
Festgabe  fi'ir  Rudolph  Hildebrand,  52. 

1895.  Neuenglisches  Lesebuch.     Band  I. 
Review  of  Skeat's  Chaucer.     Dial,  Feb.  16. 

1896.  Die  Handschriftliche  Uberlieferung  der  Gedichte  von  Sir  Thomas 

Wyatt.    Anglia,  XVIII,  263,  455,  and  XIX.  175,  413. 

The  Irreverent  Doctor  Faustus.    Anglia,  XVIII,  332. 

Uber  einige  Stellen  aus  dem  Almagestum  CI.  Ptolemei  bei  Chaucer 
und  im  Rosenroman.     Anglia,  XVIII,  133. 

Some  Notes  on  Chaucer's  Prologue.  Journal  of  Germanic  Phi- 
lology, I,   118. 

1897.  Francis  James  Child.    Anglia  Beiblatt,  VII,  377. 

1898.  Zur  Chronologic  der  Englischen  Balladen.     Anglia,  XXI,  312. 


50  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL   VOLUME 

1899.  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  Astrophel  and  Stella  und  Defence  of  Poesie. 
Nach  den  altesten  Ausgaben  mit  einer  Einleitung  iiber  Sid- 
ney's Leben  und  Werke. 

Chauceriana  Minora.     Anglia,  XXI,  245. 

Bacon's   Historia  Literaria.     Anglia,  XXI,  259. 

Chaucer's  Kleinere  Gedichte.  Anglia,  XXII,  510,  continued  in 
XXIII,  195. 

Middle  English  in  the  High  School.  Proceedings  Southern  Cali- 
fornia Teachers'  Association,  VIII,  138. 

1901.  Nicholas  Udall's  Dialogues  and  Interludes.     An  English  Miscel- 

lany presented  to  Dr.  Furnivall  in  Honour  of  his  Seventy- 
fifth  Birthday,  81. 

Zu  Chaucer's  Prolog  zu  C.  T.    Anglia,  XXIII,  225. 

Shelley's  Sophocles.    Anglia,  XXIV,  436. 

Gower's    Mirour    de    rOmme    und    Chaucer's    Prolog.      Anglia, 

XXIV,  437. 

1902.  Roger  Bacon's  Stellung  in  der  Geschichte  der  Philologie.    Philo- 

sophische  Studien,  XIX,  164. 
A  British  Academy.     New  York  Nation,  April  10,  287. 

1903.  Nicholas  Udall.     Roister  Doister.     Representative  English  Com- 

edies, 1903,  87. 
Carlyle  und  Eckermann.     Goethe  Jahrhuch,  XXIV,  4. 
References  to  the  English  Language  in  the  German  Literature  of 

the  First  Half  of  the  Sixteenth  Century.    Modern  Philology, 

I,  5. 
Caxton's  Old  English  Words.    Modern  Philology,  I,  343. 
Commencement  Address.     Daily  Palo  Alto,  May  25. 

1904.  Henry    Bradshaw :     Librarian    and    Scholar.       Library    Journal, 

XXIX,  409. 

1905.  Eine    Mittelenglische    Claudian-Ubersetzung.      Anglia,    XXVIII, 

255,  421. 

1906.  Die  Katastrophe  in  San  Francisco.     Illiistrierte  Zeitung,  May  3. 
Der  Erdbebenschaden  an  der  Stanford  Universitat  bei  San  Fran- 
cisco.    Reclams  Universum,  XXII,  849. 

1907.  Die  Nordamerikanische  Literatur.     R.  Wiilker's  Geschichte  der 

Englischen  Literatur,  second  edition. 
A  New  Collation  of  the  EUesmere  MS.    Anglia,  XXX,  401. 

1909.  Die  alteste  Englische  Akademie.     Anglia,  XXXII,  261. 

1910.  Frederick  James  Furnivall.    Fin  Nachruf.    Anglia,  XXXIII,  527. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  5I 

191 1.     Prolegomena  and  Side-notes  of  the  Chaucer  Dictionary.    Anglia, 
XXXIV,  354. 
Benedicitee.     Matcke  Memorial  Volume,  94. 
Frederick  James  Furnivall.  Frederick  James  Furnivall,  A  Volume 
of  Personal  Record,  205. 
1913.     Lucy  Toulmin  Smith.    Ein  Nachruf.    Anglia,  XXXVII,  277. 

Specimens    of    the     Chaucer    Dictionary,    Letter    E.      Anglia, 
XXXVII,  497.^ 

'  No  attempt  has  been  made  to  list  Dr.  Flugel's  numerous  minor  contributions 
to  Anglia  Beiblatt. 


THE  "COMEDIA   QUE   TRATA   DEL   RESCATE   DEL 
ALMA"  AND  THE  "GAYFEROS"  BALLADS 

Clifford  Gilmore  Allen 

THE  RELATION  of  the  Spanish  drama  to  the  ballad  literature  has  been 
discussed  by  Don  Ramon  Menendez  Pidal  in  his  work  entitled 
U  epopee  castillane  a  travers  la  litterature  espagnole.  In  regard 
to  the  religious  drama  he  says  (p.  238)  that  the  autos  sacramentales  in 
the  first  years  of  the  seventeenth  century  were  in  close  relations  with  the 
romancero,  that  in  the  earliest  autos  the  ballads  were  almost  always  placed 
in  the  mouths  of  the  comic  characters  or  bobos,  but  in  the  seventeenth 
century  the  autos  incorporated  the  ballads  in  the  action,  giving  them  a 
religious  interpretation.  Of  this  latter  class  of  autos  he  cites  La  Venta 
de  la  Zarzuela  and  La  locura  par  la  honra  by  Lope  de  Vega,  and  La 
S  err  ana  de  Plasencia  and  El  villano  en  su  rineon  by  Valdivielso. 

This  paper  deals  with  an  auto  which  gives  a  religious  interpretation 
to  a  series  of  old  ballads,  and  which  is  considerably  older  than  the  autos 
cited  by  Menendez  Pidal.  The  auto  is  found  in  Ms.  No.  14864  of  the 
Biblioteca  Nacional  at  Madrid.  The  manuscript  contains  eleven  autos 
sacramentales  and,  also.  La  gran  comedia  de  los  hechos  de  Mudarra. 
The  auto  in  question  is  the  second  of  the  manuscript.  The  end  of  the 
manuscript  bears  the  date  of  1582.  This  is  evidently  the  date  when  it 
was  written.  The  autos  are  anonymous,  and  their  dates  probably  corre- 
spond to  the  dates  of  the  works  in  the  collection  published  by  Rouanet, 
the  Coleccion  de  autos,  farsas  y  coloquios  del  siglo  XV L  Only  one 
auto  is  dated,  the  eighth,  the  Auto  sacramental  del  testamento  de  Crista, 
hecho  a  debocion  de  la  sancta  yglesia  de  Toledo,  que  la  mando  componer 
en  el  aiio  1382.  The  auto  studied  here,  then,  is  as  early  as  1582  and  may 
be  considerably  earlier. 

The  ballads  on  which  the  auto  is  based  are  the  ballads  of  Don  Gay- 
feros.  The  ballads  concerning  him  are  found  in  Wolf's  Primavera  y  flor 
de  romances  (reprinted  by  Menendez  y  Pelayo  in  the  Antologia  de  poetas 
liricos  castellanos) ,  in  Duran's  Romancero  general  (vol.  10,  p.  246  of  the 
Biblioteca  de  autores  espcmoles),  etc. 

In  order  to  explain  the  relation  of  the  auto  to  these  ballads  it  will 
be  necessary  to  state  a  part  of  their  contents. 

Gayferos  has   married   Melisendra,   the   daughter  of   the   Emperor 


"rESCATE  del  alma" ALLEN  53 

Charlemagne.  She  has  been  made  prisoner  by  the  Moors  and  is  held 
by  them  at  Sansuena.  Gayferos  is  seated  in  Charlemagne's  palace  play- 
ing at  Tahlas,  in  one  ballad  with  Oliveros,  in  another  with  Guarinos. 
Charlemagne  appears  and  upbraids  Gayferos  for  playing  when  he  should 
be  rescuing  his  wife.  Gayferos  goes  to  his  uncle  Roland.  He  tells 
how  Charlemagne  has  reproached  him.  He  says  he  has  hunted  three 
years  for  his  wife,  and  has  been  unable  to  find  her.  He  now  has  neither 
horse  nor  arms,  and  asks  Roland  to  give  him  his.  Roland  tells  him  he 
has  taken  oath  never  to  give  anyone  his  arms.  Gayferos  is  indignant. 
Roland  now  says  that  the  refusal  was  only  to  test  him,  and  wishes  to 
give  him  his  horse  and  his  arms  and  to  accompany  him  in  his  under- 
taking. Gayferos  insists  on  going  alone.  Roland  arms  him  and  he 
prepares  to  ride  away.  At  the  last  moment  Roland  gives  him  his  won- 
derful horse  and  his  magic  sword.  Gayferos  refuses  to  take  the  time  to 
say  farewell  to  his  mother,  and  sets  out,  promising  not  to  return  to 
France  until  he  has  rescued  his  wife.  Reaching  the  land  of  the  Moors  he 
curses  the  wine  and  the  bread.  He  finally  reaches  Sansueiia.  The  king, 
Almanzor,  is  at  the  mosque.  A  Christian  slave  directs  Gayferos  to  the 
palace  where  Melisendra  is  imprisoned.  He  sees  her  at  a  window. 
She  does  not  recognize  him,  and  asks  him,  if  he  is  going  to  France, 
to  tell  Gayferos  of  her  plight.  She  fears  that  he  is  afraid  to  come 
to  her  rescue,  or  that  he  now  loves  some  other  woman,  as  it  is  easy 
to  forget  those  who  are  absent  for  those  who  are  present.  She 
asks  him  then  to  tell  Oliveros  or  Roland,  or  the  emperor,  her  father,  as 
the  Moors  wish  her  to  marry  a  Moorish  king.  Gayferos  tells  her  who 
he  is,  and  she  comes  down  to  him.  The  alarm  is  given  and  the  city  gates 
closed,  but  the  horse  on  which  both  are  mounted  leaps  the  city  walls. 
The  Moors  pursue  and  surround  them.  Gayferos  leave  his  wife  in  a 
thicket,  and,  turning  against  the  Moors,  slaughters  vast  numbers  of  them 
with  Roland's  wonderful  sword.  The  rest  of  the  Moors  return  to  the 
city  and  Gayferos  and  his  wife  go  on  unharmed.  They  reach  France 
and  meet  Gayferos'  cousin,  Montesinos.  Other  knights,  as  well  as  vari- 
ous ladies,  join  their  party.  They  finally  reach  Paris,  where  they  are 
met  by  Charlemagne  and  several  of  the  peers.  The  emperor  embraces 
his  daughter,  and  the  peers  hold  Gayferos  in  great  esteem  because  he 
has  rescued  his  wife. 

This  situation  of  Gayferos  is  exploited  in  several  ballads  which 
moralize  on  the  risk  a  husband  runs  who  does  not  protect  his  wife  as  he 
should,  or  who  stays  away  from  her  presence. 

The  auto  in  question,  beginning  on   folio   19^  of  the  manuscript. 


54  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

bears  the  title  Segunda  comedia,  que  trata  del  rescate  del  alma.  Son 
ynterlocutores  Dios  Padre  y  Crista,  el  Spiritu  Sane  to,  el  demonio,  el 
mundo,  la  came,  el  alma,  el  amor  divino,  un  angel,  la  es  per  ansa.  It  is 
a  religious  interpretation  of  the  episode  of  the  rescue  of  MeHsendra  by 
Gayferos.  The  plot  of  the  auto,  with  its  relation  to  the  ballads,  is  as 
follows : 

The  soul,  which  at  times  is  given  the  name  of  MeHsendra,  is  the 
wife  of  Christ,  who  is  frequently  called  the  divine  Gayferos.  She  is 
the  prisoner  of  the  world,  the  flesh  and  the  devil,  who  correspond  to  the 
Moors.  She  is  exiled  from  the  Paris  of  Paradise  in  the  France  of 
Heaven,  and  is  lamenting  in  a  dungeon  in  infierno,  which  corresponds  to 
the  land  of  the  Moors.  She  tells  her  tears  to  say  to  God  that  she  has 
tried  for  five  thousand  years  to  regain  her  lost  glory,  and  to  ask  him  to 
come  to  her  rescue.  She  tells  her  sighs  to  say  to  God  that  he  has  for- 
gotten her,  and  for  this  reason  she  is  suffering.  This  seems  to  be  an 
echo  of  Melisendra's  complaint  to  the  knight  who  turns  out  later  to  be 
her  husband. 

Now  Christ  and  divine  love  appear.  Divine  love  addresses  Christ 
as  divine  Don  Gayferos,  and  challenges  him  to  a  game  of  tablas.  This 
is  the  game  at  which  Gayferos  is  playing  in  the  ballads  when  Charle- 
magne appears  and  upbraids  him  for  not  rescuing  his  wife.  Christ 
asks  at  what  tablas  they  are  to  play.  Divine  love  says  at  the  tablas  of 
his  law.  Whatever  divine  love  gains  he  promises  to  give  to  the  man  who 
will  keep  Christ's  law.    They  play,  and  divine  love  wins. 

Christ  now  prepares  to  pay  his  debt.  At  this  point  God  the  father 
and  the  Holy  Spirit  appear.  God  the  father  corresponds  to  the  Charle- 
magne of  the  ballads.  He  addresses  Christ  as  Gayferos,  and,  as  Charle- 
magne rebukes  his  son-in-law  for  not  going  to  the  rescue  of  MeHsendra, 
so  God  rebukes  his  son.  It  is  no  time,  he  says,  to  play  at  tablas.  His 
wife,  the  soul,  is  caUing  him.  He  should  put  on  his  armor,  as  her  salva- 
tion depends  on  him.  As  he  has  given  his  word  to  his  wife,  he  should 
not  forget  her.  It  should  not  be  said  in  beautiful  France  (i.  e.,  in 
heaven)  that  Gayferos  does  not  protect  his  wife.  It  should  not  be  said 
that  God  has  forgotten  MeHsendra  (i.  e.,  the  soul).  Christ  responds 
that  he  has  loved  his  wife  from  the  beginning.  If  he  has  stayed  so  long 
in  the  royal  dwelHng  it  has  been  because  Adam  destroyed  the  arms 
received  of  God  (his  innocence?),  but  if  love  will  give  Christ  his  arms 
the  latter  will  not  rest  until  he  has  rescued  his  wife  from  hell.  In  the 
ballads  Gayferos  has  lent  his  arms  to  his  cousin  Montesinos,  and  asks 
his  uncle  Roland  for  his.  Here  Gayferos  also  promises  never  to  return 
without  his  wife. 


"rESCATE  del  alma" — ALLEN  55 

The  Holy  Spirit  then  promises  to  arm  him  and  accompany  him  on 
his  journey.  Christ  swears  that  if  he  once  puts  on  these  arms  he  will 
not  take  them  off  until  Melisendra  is  free.  Gayferos  in  the  ballads 
makes  the  same  promise.  God  the  father  now  leaves  the  stage,  and 
Christ  in  a  monologue  speaks  of  the  sorrows  he  will  have  to  undergo 
in  accomplishing  his  task.  This  monologue  has  little  or  no  relation  to 
the  ballads. 

An  angel  now  brings  him  a  cross  and  a  shield  on  which  are  repre- 
sented the  insignia  of  the  passion.  These  are  to  be  his  arms.  The  angel  ex- 
plains them  one  by  one.  Christ's  sword  is  to  be  the  floggings,  the  thorns 
and  the  nails.  His  banner  is  to  be  the  cross.  The  battle  is  to  be  for 
the  redemption  of  the  soul.  The  idea  of  the  arms  comes  from  the 
description  of  the  arms  which  Gayferos  receives  from  his  uncle  Roland. 

Christ  consents  to  everything  in  order  to  free  the  soul.  The  flesh 
now  appears  and  asks  what  these  strange  arms  mean,  the  invincible 
shield  and  the  cross.  Christ  says  that  with  them  he  is  to  rescue  his 
beloved  wife  who  is  imprisoned  by  a  Moor  (i.  e.,  the  devil).  Christ 
departs  and  the  flesh  decides  to  go  and  tell  the  news  to  Lucifer.  The 
soul  now  appears.  She  laments  her  hard  fate,  and  calls  on  her  husband 
to  come  to  her  aid.  Finally  she  is  weary  and  falls  asleep.  Hope  appears 
and  decides  not  to  awaken  her,  but  to  tell  her  in  a  dream  that  God  is 
coming  to  rescue  her.  This  she  does,  and  the  soul  awakes  rejoicing. 
The  flesh  has  told  the  devil  of  the  warrior  who  is  coming  to  rescue  the 
soul.  The  devil  fears  that  this  is  the  promised  Messiah,  and  they  decide 
to  put  the  soul  in  double  chains.  Christ  now  appears,  and,  addressing 
himself  as  a  valiant  soldier,  exhorts  himself  to  be  courageous  and  to  do 
the  work  which  God  has  assigned  to  him.  He  reaches  the  "infernal 
house"  where  the  soul  is.    The  latter  appears  at  a  window. 

The  following  scene  is  copied  more  or  less  directly  from  the  ballads. 
The  soul  does  not  recognize  Christ,  as  Melisendra  in  the  corresponding 
scene  fails  to  recognize  Gayferos.  The  soul  thinks  that  Christ  is  a  Chris- 
tian captive  like  herself,  and  prays  that  God  may  give  him  his  liberty. 

Dios  OS  ponga  en  lihertad. 

In  the  ballads  Gayferos  meets  a  Christian  slave  and  inquires  for 
Melisendra.     The  slave  thinks  he  also  is  a  Christian  captive,  and  says: 

Dios  te  salve  el  cristiano, 
y  te  tome  en  lihertad. 

In  a  long  conversation  which  follows,  Christ  tells  the  soul  that  he 


56  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

was  born  in  France  in  the  city  of  Paris.  The  author  is  following  his 
sources  even  too  closely,  but  it  is  el  Paris  del  paraiso  and  la  Francia 
del  cielo. 

The  soul  tells  him  if  he  returns  to  Paris  to  ask  for  Gayferos. 

Si  a  Francia  ydes 

por  Gayferos  preguntad. 

Melisendra  uses  the  same  words  in  the  ballads,  but  the  soul  goes  on  to 
say  that  she  is  asking  for  el  divino  Gayferos.  Tell  him,  she  says,  that 
his  wife  sends  to  make  a  request. 

Direysle  que  la  sii  esposa 
se  r   enbia  a  comendar. 

In  the  ballads  Melisendra  says : 

Decidle  que  la  su  esposa 
se  r  envia  a  encomendar. 

The  soul  says  to  tell  her  husband  that  it  is  time  that  he  came  to  rescue 
her. 

Direisle  a  mi  amor  qu    es  tiempo 

de  me  benir  a  sacar. 

In  the  ballad  Melisendra  says : 

Que  ya  me  parece  tiem^po 
que  la  debia  sacar. 

He  should  not  let  her  die  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  and  those  who 
are  absent  should  not  be  forgotten  for  those  who  are  present. 

que  ausentes  por  presentes 
no  se  deben  olvidar. 

In  the  ballads  Melisendra  says : 

Los  ausentes  por  los  presentes 
lijeros  son  de  olvidar. 

Christ  now  tells  her  that  she  is  telling  this  to  her  own  husband,  and 


"rESCATE  del  alma" ALLEN 


57 


thus  reveals  his  identity.     In  the  ballads  Gayferos  tells  Melisendra  she 
can  deliver  her  own  message,  as  he  is  Gayferos. 

The  soul  then  goes  on  to  tell  Christ  of  the  visit  of  the  flesh  to  hell. 
From  this  point  the  auto  is  independent  of  the  ballads,  and  is  more  or 
less  closely  related  to  the  Bible  account.  The  soul  leaves  the  window. 
Christ  laments  his  fate,  but  declares  his  death  will  be  her  salvation.  His 
flesh  is  weak  and  he  does  not  wish  to  die,  but  the  Lord's  will  must  be 
done. 

Now  the  world,  the  flesh  and  the  devil  appear  and  plan  to  win  the 
soul  back  again. 

Christ  comes  back,  having  risen  from  the  dead.  He  explains  to 
the  soul  all  he  has  suffered  for  her,  and  the  soul  promises  never  to  forget, 
and  is  baptized.  Christ  then  tells  the  soul  that  he  must  go,  but  that,  at 
the  same  time,  he  will  stay  with  her  in  the  holy  sacrament  of  the  euchar- 
ist.  Christ  then  departs  and  the  soul  continues  giving  thanks  for  the 
sacrament,  by  which  she  is  made,  instead  of  a  miserable  slave,  a  friend 
of  God. 

This  auto,  then,  is  a  religious  interpretation  of  the  rescue  of  Melisen- 
dra by  Gayferos.  The  soul  is  Melisendra.  It  is  the  prisoner  of  the 
world,  the  flesh  and  the  devil.  These  correspond  to  the  Moors.  Christ 
is  Gayferos,  and  is  rebuked  for  his  negligence  by  God,  who  corresponds 
to  Charlemagne.  He  rescues  the  soul  and  brings  it  back  to  paradise, 
which  corresponds  to  Paris.  He  receives  arms  of  divine  love,  which 
corresponds  to  Roland.  The  circumstances  in  which  Christ  meets  the 
soul  are  those  in  which  Gayferos  finds  Melisendra,  etc.,  etc.  The  author 
adds  considerable  matter,  either  original  or  taken  from  the  Bible;  but 
the  main  plot  is  taken  directly  from  the  ballads. 

As  the  author  of  the  ofiito  follows  so  closely  the  story  told  in  the 
ballads,  it  seems  surprising  that  he  does  not  introduce  more  direct  quota- 
tions. The  fact  that  he  does  not  is  probably  due  to  the  verse  forms 
which  he  uses.  In  the  auto  we  have  six  series  of  redondillas,  two  of 
quiniillas,  four  of  octaves,  one  of  tercets,  and  one  of  verses  in  arte  mayor, 
with  one  scene  in  prose.  In  no  case  does  the  author  use  the  ballad  verse. 
Accordingly  considerable  ingenuity  was  necessary  for  the  introduction 
of  these  verses  from  the  ballads.  The  author  could  never  introduce  more 
than  two  of  the  short  ballad  verses  at  one  time.  These  he  quotes  invari- 
ably when  he  is  writing  redondillas.  The  two  ballad  verses  make  half 
of  the  redondilla,  to  which  he  must  add  two  verses  of  his  own  composi- 
tion, with  the  necessary  rhymes.  In  the  first  case  he  adapts  the  second 
line  from  the  ballad,  and  adds  three  verses. 


58  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

Christ.  .     .     .     hermosa  dama. 

The  Soul.     Dios  os  ponga  en  lihertad. 
Christ.  Y  de  hesa  captibidad 

libre  os  tea  quien  os  ama. 

In  the  second,  third,  fourth  and  fifth  cases  the  author  adopts  the 
third  and  fourth  hnes  from  the  ballads  and  adds  the  first  two  lines  as 
follows. 


The  Soul.     Ay  yngrata  voluntad, 

ay  lengua  y  coma  te  ynpides. 


.     .     si  a  Francia  ydes 
por  Gayferos  preguntad. 


The  Soul.     Y  si  mas  largo  ablar 

no  fuera  cosa  enfadosa 
direysle  que  la  su  esposa 
se  I'enbia  a  comendar. 

The  Soul.     Y  pues  que  me  quereis  dar 
tal  alibio  y  pasatiempo, 
dircisle  a  mi  amor  qu'es  tiempo 
de  me  benir  a  sacar. 

The  Soul.     Dile,  asi  te  beas  gozar 

lo  que  de  mi  pena  sientes, 
que  ausentes  por  presentes 
no  se  deb  en  olvidar. 

Doubtless  the  author  quoted  only  from  memory,  as  these  ballads 
were  especially  well  known ;  but  even  then  the  difficulties  in  versification 
make  these  quotations  less  frequent  than  they  would  have  been  otherwise. 

The  auto  studied  here,  then,  is  of  interest,  as  it  gives  an  example 
considerably  earlier  than  any  hitherto  cited,  of  a  religious  drama  based 
on  the  old  ballad  literature. 

The  literary  value  of  the  work  is  much  the  same  as  that  of  others 
of  its  class.  Many  of  the  lines  are  prosaic  and  monotonous,  while  others 
are  of  real  merit.  Doubtless  it  will  interest  most  those  who  are  study- 
ing the  development  of  the  religious  drama  in  Spain. 


"CYNTHIA'S  REVELS"  AND  SENECA 

William  Dinsmore  Briggs 

IN  THIS  paper  an  attempt  is  made  to  indicate  the  nature  and  extent  of 
Ben  Jonson's  indebtedness  to  Seneca  in  the  composition  of  Cynthia's 
Revels.     The  quotations  from  the  play  are  from  the  FoHo  of  1616. 
In  the  long  speech  by  Crites  in  1,  v,  rebuking  the  madness  of  those 
who  practise  vice  and  folly,  many  of  the  sentiments  remind  one  of  Seneca, 
but  the  passage  following  is  clearly  taken  from  him. 

O  how  despisde  and  base  a  thing  is  a  man, 
If  he  not  striue  t'erect  his  groueling  thoughts 
Aboue  the  straine  of  flesh !     But  how  more  cheape 
When,  euen  his  best  and  vnderstanding  part,     .     .     . 
Floates  like  a  dead  drown'd  bodie,  on  the  streame 
Of  vulgar  humour,  mixt  with  commonst  dregs? 

Seneca,  Nat.  Quaest.,  I,  prologus  5  :  "O  quam  res  est  contempta  homo,  nisi 
supra  humana  surrexerit!  quamdiu  cum  adfectibus  conluctamur,  quid 
magnifici  facimus?" 

In  II,  iii,  127  if.,  occurs  the  character-sketch  of  Crites  delivered  by 
Mercury.  "A  creature  of  a  most  perfect  and  diuine  temper.  One,  in 
whom  the  humours  and  elements  are  peaceably  met,  without  emulation 
of  precedencie:  he  is  neyther  to  phantastikely  melancholy,  too  slowly 
phlegmaticke,  too  lightly  sanguine,  or  too  rashly  cholericke,  but  in  all,  so 
composde  &  order'd,  as  it  is  cleare.  Nature  went  about  some  ful  worke, 
she  did  more  then  make  a  man,  when  she  made  him.  His  discourse  is 
like  his  behauiour,  vncommon,  but  not  vnpleasing;  hee  is  prodigall  of 
neyther.  Hee  striues  rather  to  bee  that  which  men  call  iudicious,  then 
to  bee  thought  so :  and  is  so  truly  learned,  that  he  affects  not  to  shew  it, 
Hee  will  thinke,  and  speake  his  thought,  both  freely :  but  as  distant  from 
deprauing  another  mans  merit,  as  proclaiming  his  owne.  For  his  valour, 
tis  such,  that  he  dares  as  Httle  to  offer  an  iniurie,  as  receiue  one.  In 
summe,  he  hath  a  most  ingenuous  and  sweet  spirit,  a  sharp  and  season'd 
wit,  a  straight  iudgment,  and  a  strong  mind.  Fortune  could  neuer  breake 
him,  nor  make  him  lesse.  He  counts  it  his  pleasure,  to  despise  pleas- 
ures, and  is  more  delighted  with  good  deeds,  then  goods.     It  is  a  com- 


6o  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

petencie  to  him  that  hee  can  bee  vertuous.  He  doth  neyther  couet  nor 
feare ;  hee  hath  too  much  reason  to  doe  eyther :  and  that  commends  all 
things  to  him. 

"Cvp.     Not  better  then  Mercury  commends  him. 

"Mer.  O,  Cvpid,  tis  beyond  my  deitie  to  giue  him  his  due  prayses : 
I  could  leaue  my  place  in  heauen,  to  line  among  mortals,  so  I  were  sure 
to  be  no  other  then  he." 

In  the  first  few  lines  of  this  passage  Crites  is  described  as  one  in 
whom  the  humors  are  properly  balanced.  There  is  at  first  sight  nothing 
in  this  that  would  seem  to  direct  us  especially  to  Seneca,  for  of  course 
the  physiological  doctrine  of  the  origin  of  character  in  accordance  with 
the  predominance  of  the  various  bodily  fluids  (themselves  definitely  re- 
lated to  the  four  elements)  was  orthodox  medical  doctrine  in  Jonson's 
day.  But  in  the  study  of  Jonson's  treatment  of  character,  no  attention, 
so  far  as  I  know,  has  been  paid  to  the  fact  that  this  doctrine  is  stated  with 
the  utmost  explicitness  in  a  classical  author  for  whom  Jonson  had  the 
greatest  respect  and  from  whose  writings  he  drew  a  very  large  amount 
of  material,  only  a  portion  of  which  has  hitherto  been  pointed  out.  I 
make  no  apology,  therefore,  for  quoting  in  full  chapter  xix  of  the  De  Ira, 
book  ii.  "Opportunissima  ad  iracundiam  fervidi  animi  natura  est.  nam 
cum  elementa  sint  quatuor,  ignis,  aquae,  aeris,  terrae,  potestates  pares 
his  sunt,  fervida,  frigida,  arida  atque  humida.  et  locorum  itaque  et  ani- 
malium  et  corporum  et  morum  varietates  mixtura  elementorum  facit  et 
proinde  in  aliquos  magis  incumbunt  ingenia,  prout  alicuius  elementi 
maior  vis  abundavit.  inde  quasdam  humidas  vocamus  aridasque  regiones 
et  calidas  et  f rigidas.  Eadem  animalium  hominumque  discrimina  sunt : 
refert  quantum  quisque  humidi  in  se  calidique  contineat.  cuius  in  illo  ele- 
menti portio  praevalebit,  inde  mores  erunt.  iracundos  fervida  animi  natu- 
ra faciet :  est  enim  actuosus  et  pertinax  ignis,  f rigidi  mixtura  timidos 
facit:  pigrum  est  enim  contractumque  frigus.  Volunt  itaque  quidam  ex 
nostris  iram  in  pectore  moveri  effervescente  circa  cor  sanguine,  causa 
cur  hie  potissimum  adsignetur  irae  locus,  non  alia  est,  quam  quod  in  toto 
corpore  calidissimum  pectus  est.  Quibus  humidi  plus  inest,  eorum  pau- 
latim  crescit  ira,  quia  non  est  paratus  illis  calor,  sed  motu  adquiritur. 
itaque  puerorum  feminarumque  irae  acres  magis  quam  graves  sunt  levi- 
oresque  dum  incipiunt.  siccis  aetatibus  vehemens  robustaque  ira  est,  sed 
sine  incremento,  non  multum  sibi  adiciens,  quia  inclinatum  calorem  frigus 
insequitur.  senes  difficiles  et  queruli  sunt,  ut  aegri  et  convalescentes 
et  quorum  aut  lassitudine  aut  detractione  sanguinis  exhaustus  est  calor. 
In  eadem  causa  sunt  siti  fameque  rabidi  et  quibus  exsangue  corpus  est 


"Cynthia's  revels"  and  senega  —  briggs  6i 

maligneque  alitur  et  deficit,  vinum  incendit  iras,  quia  calorem  auget  pro 
cuiusque  natura.  quidam  ebrii  effervescunt,  quidam  saucii.  neque  ulla  alia 
causa  est,  cur  iracundissimi  sint  flavi  rubentesque,  quibus  talis  natura. 
color  est,  qualis  fieri  ceteris  inter  iram  solet.  mobilis  enim  illis  agitatusque 
sanguis  est."  In  all  this  Seneca  was  of  course  making  no  original  contri- 
bution to  philosophy,^  but,  as  Jonson  lay  under  so  great  a  debt  to  Seneca 
in  so  many  ways,  the  passage  is  worth  notice  in  this  connection.  It  may 
also  be  observed  that,  though  Plutarch,  from  whom  likewise  Jonson  drew 
much,  mentions  in  his  essay  Concerning  the  Cure  of  Anger  the  proneness 
of  women,  sick  men,  and  old  men  to  become  angry,  he  does  not  refer  it 
to  any  such  physical  cause,  but  rather  to  a  certain  mean-spiritedness  and 
weakness  of  soul  (Translation  of  1870,  I,  43). 

When  Mercury  says  that  Nature  in  making  Crites  did  more  than 
make  a  man,  and,  later  on,  that  he  would  be  willing  to  become  mortal  if 
he  could  be  certain  to  be  another  Crites,  he  is  simply  giving  expression 
in  various  ways  to  one  of  Stoicism's  most  prominent  ideas.  The  sapiens, 
as  Seneca  is  never  weary  of  saying,  is  above  mankind  in  general  and  on 
a  level  with,  nay,  even  above  the  gods  themselves.  De  Providentia,  vi,  6 : 
"ferte  fortiter.  hoc  est  quo  deum  antecedatis:  ille  extra  patientiam 
malorum  est,  vos  supra  patientiam."  And  Ep.  Ixxiii,  12^.:  "Solebat 
Sextius  dicere,  lovem  plus  non  posse  quam  bonum  virum:  plura  lupiter 
habet,  quae  praestet  hominibus,  sed  inter  duos  bonos  non  est  melior,  qui 
locupletior.  .  .  .  lupiter  quo  antecedit  virum  bonum?  diutius  bonus 
est :  sapiens  nihilo  se  minoris  aestimat,  quod  virtutes  eius  spatio  breviore 
cluduntur."  And  Ep.  liii,  11  :  "Est  aliquid,  quo  sapiens  antecedat  deum: 
ille  beneficio  naturae  non  timet,  suo  sapiens." 

In  the  last  six  lines  of  Mercury's  first  speech,  Jonson  has  in  mind 
the  following  passages.  De  Vita  Beata,  iv,  2 :  "ut  beatum  dicamus 
hominem  eum,  cui  nullum  bonum  malumque  sit  nisi  bonus  malusque 
animus :  honesti  cultor,  virtute  contentus,  quem  nee  extollant  fortuita 
nee  frangant,  qui  nullum  mains  bonum  eo  quod  sibi  ipse  dare  potest 
noverit,  cui  vera  voluptas  erit  voluptatum  contemptio."  Ihid.,  v,  i  : 
"potest  beatus  dici,  qui  nee  cupit  nee  timet  beneficio  rationis."  Ihid., 
vi,2 :  "beatus  est  is,  cui  omnem  habitum  rerum  suarum  ratio  commendat." 

As  for  the  sentence  that  his  valor  dares  as  little  to  ofTer  an  injury 
as  to  receive  one  (with  which  should  be  compared  New  Inn,  IV,  iv,  55, 
"Feare  to  doe  base,  vnworthy  things,  is  valour,"  and  Underwoods  Ixxxix, 


*  Arnold,  Roman   Stoicism,  191 1,  244,  thinks  that   this  theory   was   "probably 
not  specifically  Stoic,  but  derived  from  the  Greek  physicians." 


62  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

"No,  it  is  the  law 
Of  daring  not  to  do  a  wrong"), 

I  cannot  find  that  Seneca  expresses  the  idea  in  quite  that  way,  but  it  was 
impHcit  in  the  Stoic  definition  of  'fortitude,'  as  given  in  Cicero,  De 
Officiis,  I,  xix:  "Itaque  probe  definitur  a  Stoicis  fortitudo,  cum  earn 
virtutem  esse  dicunt  propugnantem  pro  aequitate."  Hence  Cicero  goes 
on  to  say:  "Nihil  enim  honestum  esse  potest,  quod  iustitia  vacet,"  and 
concludes  the  paragraph  by  remarking:  "Itaque  viros  fortes,  magnanimos, 
eosdem  bonos  et  simplices,  veritatis  amicos,  minimeque  fallaces,  esse 
volumus :  quae  sunt  ex  media  laude  iustitiae."  As  I  have  pointed  out 
elsewhere  (Mod.  Phil.,  X,  573  ff.)*  Jonson's  'valor'  was  the  Stoic  'forti- 
tude,' and  as  the  latter  must  be  characterized  by  justice,  so  must  the 
former. 

When  saying  that  Crites  strives  rather  to  be  judicious  than  seem 
so,  Jonson  is  expressing  a  thought  like  that  in  Epigram  cix : 

Thou  rather  striu'st  the  matter  to  possesse. 
And  elements  of  honor,  then  the  dresse, 

and  may  in  both  cases  be  indebted  to  Cicero,  ibid.  :"Vera  autem  et  sapiens 
animi  magnitudo  honestum  illud,  quod  maxime  natura  sequitur,  in  factis 
positum,  non  in  gloria,  iudicat :  principemque  se  esse  mavult,  quam 
videri."  The  same  idea,  however,  is  in  Aeschylus,  Seven  against 
Thebes,  591  [581],  as  quoted  by  Plutarch  (Transl.  1870,  I,  210-21 1) 
with  reference  to  Aristides.^  So  in  Aristotle,  AHc.  Ethics,  the  high- 
minded  man  will  "care  for  reality  more  than  for  reputation"  (Welldon's' 
transl.,  p.  117). 

In  III,  ii,  19  fif.,  Hedon  says  of  Crites :  "Gods  precious,  this  afflicts 
mee  more  then  all  the  rest,  that  wee  should  so  particularly  direct  our 
hate,  and  contempt  against  him,  and  hee  to  carrie  it  thus  without  wound, 
or  passion!  'tis  insufferable."  Seneca  tells  us,  De  Contumelia,  x,  3: 
"sapiens  a  nullo  contemnitur.  magnitudinem  suam  novit  .  .  .  et 
omnis  has,  quas  non  miserias  animorum,  sed  molestias  dixerim,  non 
vincit,  sed  ne  sentit  quidem."  The  whole  of  this  tract  of  Seneca  is  built 
up  on  this  fundamental  doctrine  of  the  Stoics,  and  elsewhere  he  gives 
frequent  expression  to  this  and  to  related  ideas. 

While  we  are  on  the  subject  of  the  invulnerability  of  the  sapiens,  it 


*  For  the  frequency  of  the  'antithesis  of  seeming  and  being'  in  classical  litera- 
ture, see  the  note  on  the  passage  in  Aeschylus  in  T.  G.  Tucker's  ed.  of  the  Seven 
against  Thebes,  1908.     He  quotes  Sallust,  Cat.  liv,  esse  quam  videri  bonus  malebat. 


"cYNTHIA's    revels"    and    SENECA BRIGGS  63 

will  be  worth  while  to  observe  that  a  number  of  the  lines  in  the  Apolo- 
getical  Dialogue  affixed  to  the  Poetaster  have  their  source  in  Seneca. 

The  Fates  haue  not  spun  him  the  coursest  thred 

That  (free  from  knots  of  perturbation) 

Doth  yet  so  Hue,  although  but  to  himselfe, 

As  he  can  safely  scornc  the  tongues  of  slaues ; 

And  neglect  Fortune,  more  then  she  can  him. 

It  is  the  happiest  thing,  this  not  to  be 

Within  the  reach  of  malice ;    It  prouides 

A  man  so  well,  to  laugh  of  iniuries : 

And  neuer  sends  him  farder  for  his  vengeance 

Then  the  vex'd  bosome  of  his  enemy. 

I,  now,  but  thinke,  how  poor  their  spight  sets  ofiF, 

Who,  after  all  their  waste  of  sulphurous  tearmes, 

And  burst-out  thunder  of  their  charged  mouthes, 

Haue  nothing  left,  but  the  vnsau'ry  smoake 

Of  their  blacke  vomit,  to  vpbrayd  themselues : 

Whilst  I,  at  whom  they  shot,  sit  here  shot- free, 

And  as  vn-hurt  of  enuy,  as  vnhit. 

All  this  is  pure  Seneca  in  thought.  Compare  the  whole  of  the  Dc  Con- 
tumelia,  but  more  particularly  the  following  passages :  IX,  3 :  "caret 
autem  perturbatione  vir  erectus  .  .  .  caret  autem  ira  sapiens,  quam 
excitat  iniuriae  species,  nee  ahter  careret  ira  nisi  et  iniuria,  quam  scit 
sibi  non  posse  fieri :  inde  tarn  erectus  laetusque  est,  inde  continuo  gaudio 
elatus."  I,  2:  "Stoici  virilem  ingressi  viam  .  .  .  curae  habent 
.  .  .  ut  quamprimum  nos  eripiat  et  in  ilium  editum  verticem  educat, 
qui  adeo  extra  omnem  teli  iactum  surrexit,  ut  supra  fortunam  emineat." 
VIII,  3 :  "Non  habet  ubi  accipiat  iniuriam.  ab  homine  me  tantum  dicere 
putas  ?  ne  a  fortuna  quidem  .  .  ."  X,  4 :  "haec  vero  minora  ne  sentit 
quidem  nee  adversus  ea  solita  ilia  virtute  utitur  dura  tolerandi,  sed  aut 
non  adnotat  aut  digna  risu  putat."  XII,  3 :  "Non  immerito  itaque 
horum  contumelias  sapiens  ut  iocos  accipit."  Ill,  3 :  "Involnerabile  est 
non  quod  non  feritur,  sed  quod  non  laeditur :  ex  hac  tibi  nota  sapientem 
exhibebo."  In  this  last  case,  to  be  sure,  Jonson  has  altered  the  thought 
slightly,  but  in  its  original  form  he  employs  it  in  the  New  Inn  (see  the 
article  referred  to  above)  and  in  Underwoods  xliv. 

One  or  two  other  borrowings  in  this  dialogue  may  be  mentioned. 
When  in  1.  37  Jonson  speaks  of  the  absurdity  of  those  who  think  that  all 
are  aimed  at,  still  are  struck,  he  is  expressing  metaphorically  the  con- 


64  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

stantly  recurring  idea  of  Seneca  that  though  enemies  may  attempt  to 
injure  the  wise  man,  yet  he  does  not  feel  those  injuries.  When  in  ii. 
165-6  he  says  that  it  is  a  feminine  humor  and  far  beneath  the  dignity  of  a 
man  to  pursue  these  temporal  plagues,  he  may  have  in  mind,  in  addition 
to  the  lines  from  Juvenal  mentioned  by  Gifford  and  Mallory,  such  a 
passage  as  De  dementia,  I,  v,  5 :  "magni  autem  animi  est  proprium, 
placidum  esse  tranquillumque  et  iniurias  offensionesque  superne  despicere. 
Muliebre  est  furere  in  ira,"  for  in  the  next  two  lines,  where  he  says  that 
to  revenge  injuries  is  to  confess  you  feel  them,  he  is  certainly  making 
use  of  De  Ira,  III,  v,  8:  "Ultio  doloris  confessio  est"  (which  he  also 
used  in  the  Sejanus). 

Ill,  iii,  consists  entirely  of  a  long  soliloquy  by  Crites,  of  which  I 
give  here  the  parts  that  are  of  special  interest: 

Doe,  good  detraction,  doe,  and  I  the  while 

Shall  shake  thy  spight  off  with  a  carelesse  smile. 

*********** 

What  should  I  care  what  euery  dor  doth  buzze 

In  credulous  eares?    it  is  a  crowne  to  me. 

That  the  best  iudgements  can  report  me  wrong'd; 

Them  lyars ;    and  their  slanders  impudent. 

Perhaps  (vpon  the  rumour  of  their  speeches) 

Some  grieued  friend  will  whisper  to  me,  Crites, 

Men  speake  ill  of  thee;    so  they  be  ill  men. 

If  they  spake  worse,  'twere  better :    for  of  such  15 

To  be  disprais'd,  is  the  most  perfect  praise. 

What  can  his  censure  hurt  me,  whom  the  world 

Hath  censur'd  vile  before  me?     If  good  Chrestvs, 

Evthvs,  or  Phronimvs,  had  spoke  the  words. 

They  would  haue  moou'd  me,  and  I  should  haue  call'd         20 

My  thoughts,  and  actions,  to  a  strict  accompt 

Vpon  the  hearing:    But  when  I  remember, 

'Tis  Hedon,  and  Anaides :    alasse,  then, 

I  thinke  but  what  they  are,  and  am  not  stirr'd. 

*********** 

That  talke  (as  they  are  wont)   not  as  I  merit: 

Traduce  by  custome,  as  most  dogges  doe  barke. 

Doe  nothing  out  of  judgement,  but  disease,  30 

Speake  ill,  because  they  neuer  could  speake  well.^ 

And  who'ld  be  angry  with  this  race  of  creatures? 


'  For  Marston's  reply  to  this  passage,  cf.  Small,  War  of  the  Theatres,  1899, 
106.  It  would  be  interesting  to  know  whether  Marston  is  simply  imitating  Jonson, 
or  whether  he  had  the  same  passages  of  Seneca  in  mind.  As  they  are  among  the 
Senecan  fragments,  he  may  not  have  known  them. 


"CYNTHIA's    revels"    and    SENECA BRIGGS  65 

What  wise  physician  haue  we  euer  scene 

Moou'd  with  a  frantike  man?    the  same  affects 

That  he  doth  beare  to  his  sicke  patient,  35 

Should  a  right  minde  carrie  to  such  as  these : 

And  I  doe  count  it  a  most  rare  reuenge, 

That  I  can  thus   (with  such  a  sweet  neglect) 

Plucke  from  them  all  the  pleasure  of  their  malice. 

For  that's  the  marke  of  all  their  inginous  drifts,  40 

To  wound  my  patience,  howsoe're  they  seeme 

To  aime  at  other  obiects:    which  if  miss'd. 

Their  enui's  like  an  arrow,  shot  vpright. 

That,  in  the  fall,  indangers  their  owne  heads. 

The  sentiment  of  the  first  two  lines  is  identical  with  one  that  we  have 
already  considered.  The  greater  part  of  the  rest  of  the  speech  is  merely 
an  expansion  of  some  passages  from  the  De  Remediis  Fortuitorum  Liber 
(this  exists  only  in  fragments ;  for  those  in  which  we  are  interested,  see 
the  Teubner  edition,  III,  450). 

"  'Male  de  te  opinantur  homines.'  Sed  mali :  moverer,  si  de  me  Mar- 
cus [Cicero,  si]  Cato,  si  Laelius  sapiens,  si  alter  Cato,  si  Scipiones  duo 
ista  loquerentur :  nunc  malis  displicere  laudari  est.  Non  potest  ullam 
auctoritatem  habere  sententia,  ubi  qui  damnandus  est,  damnat. 

"'Male  de  te  loquuntur.'  Moverer,  si  hos  iudicio  facerent:  nunc 
morbo  faciunt.  non  de  me  loquuntur  sed  de  se. 

"  'Male  de  te  loquuntur.'  Bene  enim  nesciunt  loqui.  faciunt  non  quod 
mereor,  sed  quod  solent.  quibusdam  enim  canibus  sic  innatum  est,  ut  non 
pro  feritate  sed  pro  consuetudine  latrent." 

A  similar  idea,  more  succinctly  stated,  occurs  in  Ep.  113,  32:  "et 
tunc,  si  sapis,  mala  opinio  bene  parta  delectet." 

In  11.  32  ff.  other  material  from  Seneca  is  employed.  De  Cont., 
XIII,  1-2:  "quis  enim  phrenetico  medicus  irascitur?  quis  febricitantis 
et  a  f rigida  prohibiti  maledicta  in  malam  partem  accipit  ?  Hunc  affectum 
adversus  omnis  habet  sapiens,  quem  adversus  aegros  suos  medicus." 
De  Ira,  I,  xv,  i  :  "Corrigendus  est  itaque,  qui  peccat  ....  sed 
sine  ira.  quis  enim  cui  medetur  irascitur?"  De  Cont.,  XVII,  4:  "Adice 
quod  genus  ultionis  est  eripere  ei,  qui  fecit,  factae  contumeliae  volupta- 
tem  ....  adeo  fructus  contumeliae  in  sensu  et  indignatione  pa- 
tientis  est. 

The  same  sentiments  as  those  that  Crites  expresses  are  also  uttered 
by  Horace  in  Poetaster,  V,  iii,  471  ff. : 

Enuy  me  still,  so  long  as  Virgil  loues  me, 
Gallvs,  Tibvllus,  and  the  best-best  Caesar, 


66  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

My  dear  Mecoenas:    while  these,  with  many  more 
(Whose  names  I  wisely  slip)   shall  thinke  me  worthy 
Their  honour'd,  and  ador'd  societie, 
And  reade,  and  loue,  proue,  and  applaud  my  poemes; 
I  would  not  wish  but  such  as  you  should  spight  them. 

So  in  Ind.  to  Act  I  of  Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour. 

LI.  T^y  ff.  contain  the  same  thought  as  some  lines  in  the  passage 
quoted  earlier  from  Poetaster.  For  the  simile  in  43-4,  Jonson  may  be 
indebted  to  Lyly,  as  Judson  suggests,  but  as  for  the  whole  idea,  both  here 
and  in  the  Poetaster  passage,  we  may  profitably  compare,  for  instance, 
Plutarch,  Hozv  to  Profit  by  our  Enemies,  u.  s.,  I,  285 :  "And  here  may  be 
inserted  that  wise  and  facetious  answer  of  Diogenes  to  one  that  asked 
him  how  he  might  be  revenged  of  his  enemy :  The  only  way,  says  he,  to 
gall  and  fret  him  effectually  is  for  yourself  to  appear  a  good  and  honest 
man."  And  on  p.  287:  "These  are  allowable  returns,  and  the  most  cut- 
ting strokes  you  can  give  your  enemy ;  there  being  nothing  that  carries 
in  it  more  vexation  and  disgrace,  than  that  scandalous  censures  should 
fall  back  upon  the  head  of  him  who  was  the  first  author  of  them." 

In  V,  vi,  37-8,  Arete  says: 

for  the  heauens 
Receiue  no  good  of  all  the  good  they  doe. 

She  is  echoing  a  Stoic  sentiment,  as  in  De  Ben.,  IV,  ix,  i :  "plurima  bene- 
ficia  ac  maxima  in  nos  deus  confert  sine  spe  recipiendi,  quoniam  nee  ille 
collato  eget  nee  nos  ei  quicquam  conferre  possumus." 
In  V,  xi,  130  ff.,  Crites  says: 

But  there's  not  one  of  these,  who  are  vnpain'd, 

Or  by  themselues  vnpunished :    for  vice 

Is  like  a  furie  to  the  vicious  minde. 

And  turnes  delight  it  selfe  to  punishment. 

Seneca,  De  Ira,  II,  xxx,  2  :  "et  iam  sibi  dedit  [poenas]  qui  peccavit."  Ibid., 
Ill,  xxvi,  2:  "maxima  est  enim  factae  iniuriae  poena  fecisse,  nee  quis- 
quam  gravius  adficitur  quam  qui  ad  supplicium  poenitentiae  traditur." 
Ep.  xcvii,  14:  "Prima  ilia  et  maxima  peccantium  est  poena,  peccasse 
nee  ullum  scelus  .  .  .  impunitum  est,  quoniam  sceleris  in  scelere  sup- 
plicium est."  So  Plutarch,  Of  the  Tranquillity  of  the  Mind,  ibid.,  I,  165 : 
"Whereas,  on  the  contrary,  the  being  conscious  of  having  done  a  wicked 
action  leaves  stings  of  remorse  behind  it,  which,  like  an  ulcer  in  the  flesh, 


"CYNTHIA's    revels"    and    SENECA BRIGGS  6/ 

makes  the  mind  smart  with  perpetual  wounds,"  and  in  a  note  we  are  re- 
ferred to  Euripides,  Orestes,  396. 

Even  in  his  dedication  Jonson  is  not  far  away  from  Seneca,  for 
when  he  says,  "For,  to  grace,  there  should  come  reuerence ;  and  no  man 
can  call  that  louely,  which  is  not  also  venerable,"  he  certainly  had  in  mind 
Ep.  cxv,  3 :  "quanta  esset  cum  gratia  auctoritas !  nemo  illam  amabilem, 
qui  non  simul  venerabilem  diceret." 

The  interest  possessed  for  the  student  of  Jonson  by  these  cases  of 
borrowing  does  not  lie  merely  in  the  fact  that  a  certain  number  of  items 
have  been  added  to  the  long  account  of  the  poet's  indebtedness  to  the 
classics.  Two  other  points  of  view  are  more  fruitful,  because  they  afford 
a  survey  of  larger  aspects  of  his  work  and  perhaps  a  clearer  insight  into 
the  man  himself  and  his  relation  to  his  age.  In  the  first  place,  there  is 
the  very  interesting  question  of  the  value  and  meaning  of  the  Stoic  ethic 
for  Jonson  himself  and  incidentally  for  his  period,  in  itself  a  phase  of  the 
still  larger  question  of  the  amalgamation  of  pagan  philosophy  with 
Christian  thought  that  took  place  in  the  days  of  Elizabeth.  This  ques- 
tion, however,  I  do  not  propose  to  take  up  here.  At  the  moment  I  desire 
merely  to  state  the  principle  of  interpretation  that  will  eventually  be 
found  most  useful  in  coordinating  the  multifarious  phases  of  his  intellec- 
tual activity. 

We  rank  Jonson,  and  rightly,  among  our  great  dramatists,  our  great 
critics,  and  our  great  satirists.  Yet  to  understand  the  man  himself  and 
the  functions  that  he  conceived  himself  to  fulfill,  we  must  not  start  from 
the  conception  of  him  as  an  author,  or  as  a  man  of  letters,  or  even  as  a 
poet  in  the  usual  sense.  The  key  to  the  problem  lies  in  the  old  doctrine 
of  the  votes,  the  poet-moralist,  the  poet-teacher.  In  classical  literature 
there  was  embodied  a  very  large  amount  of  valuable  thought, — thought 
which  the  world  should  not  let  die,  since  it  was  indispensable  to  the  art 
of  life.  No  doubt  some  men  read  and  studied  the  classics  diUgently.  Yet 
such  men  were  after  all  elected  spirits.  Few  perhaps  of  those  that  were 
fluent  in  the  Latin  and  Greek  really  applied  to  the  conduct  of  life  the 
lessons  taught  by  men  of  old  times  out  of  their  great  experience  and  their 
constant  reflection.  There  were  few  who  could  divest  an  idea  of  its 
classical  associations,  and  save  for  their  own  use  or  for  that  of  others 
its  really  valuable  portion,  its  essential  element  of  permanent  truth.  And 
for  most  men,  learning  being  in  such  a  degenerate  state,  the  classics  were 
a  book  sealed  with  seven  seals.  The  translations  that  lay  at  their  dis- 
posal gave  them,  to  be  sure,  the  ancient  authors  in  an  English  dress  so 
far  as  mere  language  was  concerned,  but  there  was  need  of  a  more 


68  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

thorough,  more  far-reaching  process  of  adaptation.  Classical  thought 
had  developed  in  a  pagan  civilization  and  one  which,  besides  being  pagan, 
was  fundamentally  different  in  point  of  view,  in  social  organization,  in 
manners  and  customs.  It  was  not  easy  for  the  ordinary  Englishman  to 
hypostatize  the  ancients  and  to  conceive  of  them  as  real  beings  living  and 
acting  in  a  real  world.  Classical  thought,  then,  if  it  were  to  be  of  direct 
use  to  modern  times,  must  be  as  it  were  mediated,  reinterpreted,  in  such 
a  way  as  to  be  readily  absorbed  by  the  English  reader,  just  as  though  it 
were  a  native  product ;  it  must  be  made  a  part  of  his  intellectual  atmos- 
phere. The  reverse  of  a  formal  process  of  exposition  was  demanded. 
Neither  translation  nor  treatises  would  serve  the  turn.  Hence,  though 
perhaps  without  any  consciously  formulated  purpose,  Jonson  set  himself 
to  read,  mark,  and  inwardly  digest  the  classical  authors.  In  his  own 
phrase,  he  concocted,  divided,  and  turned  all  into  nourishment,  and  as  a 
result,  eiiis  studia  abierunt  chiium  in  mores.  I  believe  Jonson  would  have 
accepted  this  description  of  his  literary  activity,  and  I  find  few  phases 
of  that  activity  that  may  not  be  more  readily  understood  by  reference 
to  it. 

The  second  question  is  of  a  different,  though  of  a  related  character. 
Who  was  Crites?  In  deahng  with  the  War  of  the  Theatres  some  schol- 
ars identify  Jonson  and  Crites  without  hesitation,  but  others  are  more 
conservative.  Though  realizing  that  Jonson  often  speaks  through  the 
mouth  of  Crites  and  that  a  certain  parallelism  may  be  found  between  the 
situation  of  Crites  at  Court  and  Jonson's  own  situation,  yet  some  of  us 
feel  a  natural  reluctance  to  believe  that  Jonson  could  have  intended  to 
say  of  himself  all  of  the  things  that  he  says  of  Crites.  Certainly  it  w^as 
a  defect  of  his  character  that  he  was  in  a  measure  arrogant,  that  he  knew 
perfectly  well  and  admitted  freely  that  he  was  a  man  of  great  talents 
and  great  learning.  But  Camden  and  Selden,  for  all  his  abilities,  would 
have  had  little  use  for  a  man  who  meant  Mercury's  description  of  Crites, 
delivered  on  the  pubhc  stage,  to  be  understood  of  himself.  Fletcher  and 
Beaumont  would  have  thought  him  simply  ridiculous.  He  would  have 
been  no  literary  dictator,  but  the  laughing-stock  of  all  the  wits.  His 
pride  in  his  own  achievements  would  not  then  have  been  regarded  by 
his  friends  as  a  pardonable  'Roman  infirmity,'  meriting  at  worst  an  in- 
dulgent smile  or  an  occasional  witty  sally.  That  his  enemies  should 
misunderstand  him  was  to  be  expected.  Therein  they  found  their  prin- 
cipal weapon  of  attack. 

In  other  words,  we  accept,  more  or  less  consciously,  a  distinction 
that  seems  not  to  be  often  stated,  but  which  if  recognized  from  the  begin- 


"CYNTHIA's    revels"    and    SENECA BRIGGS  69 

ning-  would  perhaps  have  prevented  much  controversy  and  many  pseudo- 
identifications.  It  is  one  thing  to  say  that  a  character  in  a  drama  repre- 
sents or  embodies  a  Uving  person.  It  is  another  to  say  that  the  dramatist 
in  creating  the  character  made  use  of  certain  facts  of  the  given  person's 
experience.  There  are  characters,  too,  which  represent  individuals  only 
at  certain  stages  in  the  working-out  of  the  action,  but  not  as  regards  the 
play  as  a  whole.  The  impersonation  may  even  take  place  only  once  in  the 
course  of  the  action.  In  none  of  these  cases,  which  I  make  bold  to  say 
represent  Elizabethan  practice  in  general  (there  are  of  course  excep- 
tions), can  the  character  be  said  to  impersonate  except  momentarily,  by 
fits  and  starts,  and  in  no  such  case  should  we  speak  of  the  character  as 
identified  with  the  person  except  for  the  moment.  We  may  accept  an 
identification  when  everything  in  the  character  can  be  explained  by  ex- 
amining the  person,  and  when  nothing  in  the  person  is  inconsistent  with 
the  features  of  the  character  (given  the  standpoint  of  the  creator), 
provided  always  that  there  is  in  the  first  place  some  reason  for  suspecting 
identity  and  that  there  are  no  considerations  external  to  the  play  that 
make  it  unlikely  or  impossible. 

Crites,  then,  is  not  Jonson  except  as  Jonson  in  depicting  him  and  his 
situation  utilized  facts  of  his  own  experience  and  in  flattering  Elizabeth 
and  demanding  preferment  for  himself  spoke  through  his  mouth.  Crites 
is  the  Stoic  bonus  vir,  the  sapiens,  the  ideal  man,  presented  under  condi- 
tions of  Elizabethan  court-life  because  Jonson  is  satirizing  certain  fea- 
tures of  that  life,  and  figured  as  a  scholar  and  poet  because  here  as 
throughout  his  career  Jonson  is  fighting  the  battle  of  the  scholar  and 
poet.  Crites  is  poor  not  so  much  because  Jonson  is  himself  poor,  but 
because  scholars  and  poets  are  always  poor,  as  they  have  told  us  from  the 
beginning  of  recorded  time  and  as  they  still  tell  us.  A  marked  acerbity 
in  the  utterances  of  Crites,  foreign  to  those  of  the  true  sapiens  of  Seneca, 
is  accounted  for  by  Jonson's  own  habits  of  vigorous  speech.  In  a  slightly 
diflFerent  point  of  view,  Crites  represents  the  social  group  to  which  Jon- 
son belonged,  and  in  portraying  him  Jonson  made  him  conform  to  the 
ideal  which  the  great  ethical  system  of  the  Stoics  had  evolved. 

It  follows,  then,  that  I  cannot  altogether  agree  with  Professor  Bas- 
kervill's  interpretation  of  the  figure  of  Crites  in  his  English  Elements  in 
Jonson's  Early  Comedy.  In  the  first  place,  his  parallels  with  Aristotle 
(pp.  261-2)  must  be  superseded  by  the  parallels  with  Seneca  given 
above,  more  especially  in  view  of  the  fact  that  Crites  is  constantly  quot- 
ing from  Seneca  and  that  the  similar  attitude  toward  detractors  assumed 
in  the  Poetaster  (and  elsewhere)  draws  so  much  from  the  Stoic  writer. 


yo  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

That  Jonson  had  no  hesitation  in  mingling  Stoic  and  Peripatetic  doctrine 
I  have  ilkistrated  in  the  article  previously  referred  to,  but  I  see  no  reason 
for  supposing  that  in  the  character  of  Crites  Aristotle  had  any  particular 
share.*  Moreover,  when  Professor  Baskervill  says,  p.  246,  that  "the 
ultimate  source  of  Jonson's  ethical  ideas  must  have  been  Aristotle,"  I 
think  that  the  statement  is  mistaken  both  as  regards  this  play  and  as 
regards  Jonson's  ethical  teaching  in  general,  which,  despite  borrowings 
from  Aristotle  and  Plato  and  occasionally  others,  is  basically  Stoic  and 
more  especially  Senecan,  that  is  insofar  as  its  ascertainable  classical 
sources  are  concerned. 

Nor  can  I  go  with  Professor  Baskervill  in  his  treatment  of  Crites 
as  "the  ideal  social  and  courtly  type"  (p.  258,  cf.  also  22,  note,  and  260). 
Crites  is  not  the  ideal  courtier,  and  I  see  no  reason  for  supposing  that 
had  Jonson  undertaken  to  draw  such  a  character,  he  would  not  have 
formed  him  in  general  like  II  Cortigiano,  or  perhaps,  using  a  concrete 
model,  like  Sir  Philip  Sidney.  Crites  represents  the  social  group  to  which 
Jonson  belongs,  and  in  so  doing  possesses  such  qualities  as  the  ideal  man 
should  possess  in  whatever  walk  of  life.  To  suppose  that  Jonson  in 
proposing  the  ideal  courtier  deliberately  deprived  him  of  all  advantages 
of  rank  and  fortune,  advantages  which  Seneca  himself  does  not  disdain, 
though  he  inculcates  a  particular  position  to  be  taken  toward  them,  and 
which  Aristotle  considers  of  very  great  importance,  advantages  which,  it 
is  perfectly  obvious,  the  courtier  must  possess  in  order  to  enjoy  influence 
and  authority  under  the  social  conditions  of  the  time,  is  I  think  to  mis- 
take Jonson's  attitude  toward  matters  of  that  kind. 

In  other  words.  Professor  Baskervill  goes,  it  seems  to  me,  altogether 
too  far  in  laying  such  stress  as  he  does  upon  the  'democratic'  feeling  that 
he  thinks  runs  through  Cynthia's  Revels  (cf.  pp.  22,  261).  I  see  no 
hostility  to  the  Court,  but  merely  to  the  abuses  that  fastened  themselves 
upon  it.  Jonson  was  certainly  aristocratic  and  monarchical  in  feeling  and 
belief.  His  democracy,  if  we  must  use  the  term,  consisted  in  believing 
that  in  the  best  court  the  door  should  not  be  shut  entirely  upon  persons 
of  merit.  Social  or  political  equality  in  the  ordinary  sense  I  do  not 
believe  that  he  claimed  for  them.  When  he  seems  to  do  so  for  himself, 
the  claim  is  rather  the  expression  of  the  force  and  vigorous  independence 
of  his  own  character  than  of  any  social  theory.^     It  must  not  be  for- 


*  There    are,    to   be    sure,   certain    similarities   between    Crites    and    the    high- 
minded  man,  but  they  are  also  to  be  found  in  the  sapiens. 

*  And  doubtless  it  is  partly  due  to  the  fact  that  Jonson  was  a  poet  and  con- 
sidered that  the  poet,  who,  as  the  rates,  practised  an  almost  sacred  profession,  was 


CYNTHIA  S    REVELS      AND    SENECA BRIGGS  7I 

gotten  that  Jonson  was  entitled  to  write  himself  gentleman,  and  that  his 
family  bore  arms.  No  such  person,  according  to  the  traditions  of  the 
English  system,  was  a  proper  subject  for  any  great  man's  contempt.  Of 
course,  Jonson,  like  practically  all  thinkers  of  his  own  and  earlier  days, 
believed  in  the  principle  of  virtus  vera  nobilitas,  but  this  belief  did  not 
make  him  any  more  than  the  others,  democratic  in  feeling;  it  did  not 
even  make  him  an  aristocrat  in  the  etymological  sense  of  the  word,  for 
he  does  not  anywhere  show  that  he  desired  a  social  reorganization  on  that 
basis.  He  despised  the  populace ;  he  believed  in  class  rule ;  he  believed 
in  good  blood,  good  name,  social  rank ;  but  these  things  should  in  the 
individual  be  incentives  to  the  pursuit  of  virtue;  when  they  were  abused, 
the  offenders  deserved  castigation.  In  all  this  he  was  a  man  of  his  time, 
and  no  more  a  democrat  than  anyone  else. 

The  doctrine,  virtus  vera  nobilitas,  can  of  course  be  found  in  early 
Greek  thought  and  can  without  the  slightest  difficulty  be  traced  down 
through  Roman,  mediaeval,  and  Renaissance  times  into  the  Elizabethan 
and  modern  period.  As  a  political  principle,  it  was  utilized  in  order  to 
account  for  the  origin  of  rank  and  to  open  a  door,  other  than  that  of 
wealth,  intrigue,  and  favoritism,  through  which  the  aristocracy  could 
be  recruited  from  below.  As  an  ethical  and  social  principle,  it  served  to 
maintain  the  standing  of  the  upper  orders,  to  incite  them  to  the  proper 
fulfillment  of  their  duty  to  society,  and  from  this  point  of  view  it  was 
crystallized  into  the  maxim,  noblesse  oblige.  But  it  had  per  se  no  more 
to  do  with  democracy  and  democratic  feeling  than  had  the  Christian 
doctrine  that  all  men  were  equal  in  the  sight  of  God,  who  would  punish 
and  reward  without  reference  to  earthly  rank.  To  assert  any  such 
connection  would  be  to  ignore  the  history  of  the  principle,  to  mistake  a 
verbal  for  a  real  resemblance,  and  to  reflect  conceptions  and  beliefs  of 
the  present  day  back  into  the  minds  of  those  who  did  not  entertain  them. 


especially  worthy  of  honor.  For  that  reason,  among  others,  Crites  should  not  be 
scorned.  Neither  poets  nor  kings  are  born  every  year,  like  sheriffs.  Both  deserve 
equal  reverence.  And  compare  Discoveries,  ed.  Schelling,  p.  31 :  "I  have  ever 
observed  it  to  have  been  the  office  of  a  wise  patriot,  among  the  greatest  affairs  of 
the  State,  to  take  care  of  the  commonwealth  of  learning.  For  schools,  they  are 
the  seminaries  of  State ;  and  nothing  is  worthier  the  study  of  a  statesman  than 
that  part  of  the  republic  which  we  call  the  advancement  of  letters."  There  is 
nothing  democratic  in  demanding  honor  for  Crites  or  for  himself  on  such  grounds 
as  these. 


BRYANT'S  "A  PRESENTIMENT"  AND  GOETHE'S 
"DER  ERLKONIG" 

William  Herbert  Carruth 

(One  phase  of  Professor  Flugel's  catholic  taste  was  his  interest  in  American 
literature,  for  which  he  manifested  a  really  remarkable  appreciation.  In  the  very 
year  of  his  death  he  was  gathering  material  for  a  revision  of  his  Die  nordameri- 
kanische  Littcratur,  a  supplement  to  Wulker's  Geschichte  der  englischen  Litteratur. 
Accordingly  there  may  be  an  especial  appropriateness  in  including  in  a  volume 
devoted  to  his  memory  this  slight  note  on  Bryant's  relation  to  Goethe. — W.  H.  C.) 

FROM  AN  accomplished  translator  who  v^as  at  the  same  time  scrupu- 
lous to  acknowledge  his  indebtedness  to  other  authors  when  he 
was  conscious  of  it,  it  seems  surprising  that  a  poem  with  so  strik- 
ing a  resemblance  to  Goethe's  "Der  Erlkonig"  as  Bryant's  "A  Presenti- 
ment" should  have  come  without  any  note  of  the  relationship.  Before 
discussing  this  relationship,  let  us  place  the  two  poems  side  by  side. 

A  PRESENTIMENT 

"Oh  father,  let  us  hence — for  hark, 

A  fearful  murmur  shakes  the  air; 

The  clouds  are  coming  swift  and  dark; — 
What  horrid  shapes  they  wear ! 

A  winged  giant  sails  the  sky: 

Oh  father,  father,  let  us  fly!" 

"Hush,  child;    it  is  a  grateful  sound, 

That  beating  of  the  summer  shower; 
Here,  where  the  boughs  hang  close  around 

We'll  pass  a  pleasant  hour. 
Till  the  fresh  wind,  that  brings  the  rain, 
Has  swept  the  broad  heaven  clear  again." 

"Nay,  father,  let  us  haste — for  see, 

That  horrid  thing  with  horned  brow, — 

His  wings  o'erhang  this  very  tree, 
He  scowls  upon  us  now ; 

His  huge  black  arm  is  Ufted  high; 

Oh  father,  father,  let  us  fly!" 


BRYANT   AND  GOETHE CARRUTH  73 

"Hush,  child ;"  but  as  the  father  spoke, 

Downward  the  livid  firebolt  came. 
Close  to  his  ear  the  thunder  broke. 

And,  blasted  by  the  flame. 
The  child  lay  dead  ;    while  dark  and  still 
Swept  the  grim  cloud  along  the  hill. 

William  Cullen  Bryant  (composed  1836). 


DER  ERLKONIG 

Who  rides  so  late  in  the  night-wind  wild? 

It  is  the   father  and  with  him  his  child ; 
He  gathers  the  boy  well  into  his  arm. 

He  clasps  him  close  and  he  keeps  him  warm. 

"My  son,  why  dost  hide  thy  face  and  cling?" 
"Father,  dost  thou  not  see  the  Elfin-king, — 

The  Elfin-king  with  his  crown  and  train?" 
"My  son,  'tis  a  streak  of  the  misty  rain." 

(Come  hither,  thou  darling,  come  go  with  me! 

Fine  games  I  know  that  Fll  play  with  thee; 
Flow^ers  many  and  bright  do  my  meadows  hold, 

My  mother  has  many  a  robe  of  gold.) 

"O  father,  dear  father,  and  dost  thou  not  hear 

What  the  Elfin-king  whispers  so  low  in  mine  ear?" 

"Calm,  calm  thee,  my  boy,  it  is  only  the  breeze 

As  it  rustles  the  withered  leaves  under  the  trees." 

(Wilt  thou  go,  bonny  boy,  wilt  thou  go  with  me? 

My  daughters  shall  wait  on  thee  daintily; 
My  daughters  around  thee  in  dances  shall  sweep 

And  rock  thee  and  kiss  thee  and  sing  thee  to  sleep.) 

"O  father,  dear  father,  and  dost  thou  not  mark 

The  Elf-king's  daughters  out  there  in  the  dark?" — 

"I  see  it,  my  child;    but  it  is  not  they; 

'Tis  the  old  willows  nodding  their  heads  so  gray." 

(I  love  thee!     Thy  beauty  it  charms  me  so; 

And  Fll  take  thee  by  force  if  thou  wilt  not  go!) 
"O  father,  dear  father,  he's  grasping  me, — 
The  Elf-king  has  done  me  an  injury." 


74 


FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 


The  father  rides  swiftly,— with  terror  he  gasps, — 
The  groaning  child  in  his  arms  he  clasps; 

He  reaches  the  castle  all  spent  and  sped; 

But  alack!  in  his  arms  the  child  lay  dead! 

Johann  Wolfgang  Goethe;   translation  of  Martin 
and  Aytoun,  modified. 

The  identity  of  theme  and  method  are  so  complete,  I  take  it,  as  to 
make  argument  almost  unnecessary.  A  father,  caught  in  a  thunderstorm 
with  a  terrified  child,  who  imagines  supernatural  enemies  in  cloud 
and  wind;  the  child  appealing  for  haste  and  protection;  the  father 
attempting  in  vain  to  quiet  the  child  by  natural  explanation  of  the  imag- 
ined terrors ;  the  child,  at  the  end  of  the  storm,  dead  in  its  father's  arms. 

The  method:  dialogue,  with  a  minimum  of  narrative.  The  differ- 
ences here :  that  Goethe's  ballad  begins  with  a  stanza  of  narrative,  and 
introduces  the  fancied  seductions  of  the  storm-spirit  as  a  third  person  in 
the  dialogue.  Moreover,  Goethe's  method  is  otherwise  more  dramatic, 
giving  four  speeches  to  each :  father  and  child ;  while  Bryant's  speeches 
are  longer,  and  but  two  to  each.  By  omitting  the  verses  spoken  by  the 
Erlkonig  (and  to  make  this  easy  I  have  given  them  additional  indenta- 
tion), the  similarity  of  method  is  more  obvious,  as  well  as  the  almost  equal 
length  of  the  two  poems :  twenty-two  lines  in  "Der  Erlkonig"  and  twenty- 
four  lines  in  "A  Presentiment." 

A  vital  difference,  from  the  artistic  point  of  view,  is  the  rationalistic 
interpretation  of  the  episode  and  the  child's  death  in  Bryant,  contrasted 
with  the  vague  horror  which  it  is  Goethe's  purpose  to  arouse.  In  "Der 
Erlkonig"  the  child  may  have  been  ill  to  begin  with  and  have  died  of  that 
illness,  or  it  may  have  died  of  fright,  or  the  death  may  have  resulted 
from  some  element  in  the  storm.  Goethe  probably  did  not  intend  us  to 
have  a  clear  answer  to  the  question.  Bryant's  poem  is  in  a  way  a  criti- 
cism of  Goethe's.  A  translation  it  certainly  cannot  be  called ;  rather  a 
version  with  an  interpretation.  It  seems  to  me  undeniable  that  it  is  based 
on  "Der  Erlkonig,"  and  inconceivable  that  it  was  not  consciously  so  based. 
It  is  not  the  pride  of  an  "international  literary  detective"  which 
prompts  to  this  note,  but  rather  the  opportunity  it  offers  to  remark  on 
Bryant's  scrupulous  care  to  acknowledge  his  literary  indebtedness  in 
general  and  to  suggest  an  explanation  for  the  absence  of  such  acknowl- 
edgment in  the  present  case. 

It  was  Bryant's  habit  to  supply  his  poems  with  notes  explaining  their 
origin.  Thus  on  "The  Burial  Place":  "The  first  half  of  this  fragment 
may  seem  to  the  reader  borrowed  from  the  Essay  on  Rural  Funerals  in 


BRYANT   AND  GOETHE CARRUTH  75 

the  fourth  number  of  the  Sketch-Book.  The  lines  were,  however,  written 
more  than  a  year  before  that  number  appeared."  On  "The  Hurricane" : 
"This  poem  is  nearly  a  translation  from  one  by  Jose  Maria  de  Heredia 
etc."  Or  again,  on  "Love  and  Folly" :  "This  is  an  imitation  rather  than 
a  translation  of  the  poem  of  the  graceful  French  fabulist."  I  find  no- 
where any  comment  on  the  poem  here  under  discussion,  either  by  Bryant 
or  by  his  biographers  or  editors.  Yet  as  I  have  said,  I  assume  that  he 
cannot  have  been  unaware  of  the  relation  of  his  poem  to  "Der  Erlkonig." 

On  the  other  hand,  there  can  be  no  question  of  'plagiarism.'  Bryant 
was  too  wholly  honest  to  give  room  for  such  a  suspicion,  and  too  intelli- 
gent, if  he  had  not  been  honest,  to  dream  that  the  connection  would  not 
be  seen.  Accordingly  it  must  be  assumed  that  he  regarded  the  case  as 
peculiar  in  not  calling  for  the  acknowledgment  of  relationship.  "A 
Presentiment"  is  a  rationalistic  criticism  on  "Der  Erlkonig."  As  such 
the  latter  poem  and  its  theme  become  raw  material  to  the  author  of  the 
former.  Bryant  would  not  have  dreamed  of  undertaking  an  artistic  im- 
provement on  Goethe's  work.  But  it  must  have  occurred  to  him  to  show 
by  illustration  that  the  real  phenomena  of  a  real  storm  were  adequate 
to  produce  an  artistic  ballad  without  the  romantic  'blauer  Dunst'  of 
elfin  superstition. 

For  my  own  part,  it  seems  to  me  that  an  acknowledgment  was  due 
to  Goethe,  even  on  this  assumption,  and  the  omission  of  it  does  not  seem 
to  accord  with  Bryant's  character  and  practice.  If  my  impression  is 
right  on  this  point,  there  is  no  other  explanation  of  the  omission  than 
neglect  due  to  oversight  or  postponement. 


ON  SHAKESPEARE'S  "JULIUS  CAESAR" 

William  Chislett,  Jr. 

To  H.  M.  Ayres'  view  of  Shakespeare's  Julius  Caesar  as  "a  gradual 
evolution  of  the  braggart  Caesar  from  its  direct  prototypes — the 
Hercules  of  Seneca  and  the  Ajax  of  Sophocles"  (New  Variorum 
Shakespeare,  Julius  Caesar,  1913,  pp.  xi,  397-9),  and  J.  C.  Allen's  con- 
ception of  the  great  Roman  as  a  picturesque  hero  staged  to  amuse  Eliza- 
bethan audiences  (id.,  p.  395),  I  wish  to  call  attention  to  two  further 
aspects  of  a  still  deferred  solution. 

I  think  (i)  that  in  the  dramatic  figure  of  Caesar  Shakespeare 
satirized  the  historical  Caesar  by  making  him  a  conventional  pseudo- 
Senecan  hero;  and  (2)  that  in  his  characterization  he  embodied  "our 
histories'  "  and  his  audiences's  presumably  patriotic  feelings  against  the 
ancient  invader  of  Britain. 

In  support  of  ( i )  we  note  that  in  the  plays  of  Shakespeare  in  which 
the  Senecan  influence  is  detected  (see  Cunliffe's  The  Influence  of  Seneca 
on  Elizabethan  Tragedy)  Shakespeare  is  in  the  main  intuitively  Senecan, 
not  pseudo-Senecan.  Again,  portions  of  the  clown  scenes  in  The  Mid- 
summer Night's  Dream  burlesque  pseudo-Senecan  drama ;  as  also  Fal- 
staiif  in  i  Henry  IV,  II,  iv :  "I  must  speak  in  a  passion,  and  I  will  do  it  in 
King  Cambyses'  vein."  I  think  in  Julius  Caesar  Shakespeare  satirized 
false  Senecanism  not  less  intentionally,  but  less  obviously.  Pseudo-Sene- 
can-like,  Caesar  is  "drunk  with  the  name  of  Caesar."  Like  Tamburlaine 
and  Cambyses  he  is  pompous  and  thrasonical ;  but  whereas  they  are  un- 
intentionally ridiculed,  he  is  purposely  exaggerated. 

In  support  of  (2),  one  recalls  the  patriotic  passage  in  Cymbel- 
ine  II,  iv,  20-33,  in  which  Posthumus  says, 

"Our  countrymen 
Are  now  more  order'd  than  when  Julius  Caesar 
Smiled  at  their  lack  of  skill,  but  found  their  courage 
Worthy  his  frowning  at." 

But    the    words   that    were    music    in    the     ears    of   loyal    Elizabethans 
were  the  Queen's,  III,   i,   16-33.      (See  W.  G.  Boswell-Stone's  Shake- 


Shakespeare's  "julius  caesar"  —  chislett  yy 

spere's  Holm  shed,  p.  ii,  where  the  Queen  "scornfully  appraises  the  value 
of  that  'kind  of  conquest  which  Caesar  made  here'  ")  : 

"Remember,  sir,  my  liege, 
The  kings  your  ancestors,  together  with 
The  natural  bravery  of  your  isle,  which  stands 
As  Neptune's  park,  ribbed  and  paled  in 
With  rocks  unscaleable  and  roaring  waters, 
With  sands  that  will  not  bear  your  enemies'  boats. 
But  suck  them  up  to  the  topmast.     A  kind  of  conquest 
Caesar  made  here ;    but  made  not  here  his  brag 
Of  'Came,  and  saw,  and  overcame' :    with  shame — 
The  first  that  ever  touch'd  him — he  was  carried 
From  off  our  coast,  twice  beaten ;    and  his  shipping — 
Poor  ignorant  baubles ! — on  our  terrible  seas. 
Like  egg-shells  moved  upon  their  surges,  crack'd 
As  easily  'gainst  our  rocks ;    for  joy  whereof 
The  famed  Cassibelan,  who  was  once  at  point — 
O  giglot  fortune ! — to  master  Caesar's  sword. 
Made  Lud's  town  with  rejoicing-fires  bright 
And  Britons  strut  with  courage."  ^ 

The  Queen's  unfairness  here  to  Caesar  (even  Holinshed  is  fairer: 
see  Dowden's  Cymbeline,  Arden  Shakespeare,  p.  xx)  becomes  Shake- 
speare's and  his  audience's  and  "our  histories'  "  (GeoflFrey  of  Monmouth's 
and  Matthew  of  Westminster's)  bias-  in  Juhus  Caesar,  and  for 
the  same  reason :  expression  is  given  to  British  resentment  against 
the  Roman  invader,  whose  ambition  did  not  end  with  the  sea,  but 
extended  even  to  the  Invulnerable  Isle. 

Now  Professor  Boas  says  truly  (Shakespere  and  His  Predecessors, 
p.  458),  "Allusions  elsewhere  (than  in  Julius  Caesar)  to  the  great  dic- 
tator as  'mightiest  Julius'  and  'broad- fronted  Caesar'  prove  that  Shake- 
speare did  not  under-estimate  the  man  whose  place  in  the  sphere  of  action 
is  perhaps  the  closest  parallel  to  his  own  in  the  sphere  of  intellect." 
Cymbeline  itself  has  appreciative  references  to  Caesar.  Indeed  Holinshed, 
when  he  deals  with  the  Roman  invasion  of  Britain,  gives  Caesar's  side 
and  "our  histories'."  But  when  he  comes  to  the  French,  the  Scotch,  the 
Welsh  and  the  Irish,  he  displays  "a  stolid  insular  spirit" ;    which  leads 


'  Sidney  Lee  quotes  the  first  seven  lines  of  this  passage  in  his  Shakespeare  and 
Patriotism.     (Critic,  XXXVIII,  535,  1901.) 
'  See  Dowden,  p.  xx. 


78  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

Miss  Christabel  Forsyth  Fiske  to  say  further  (A  Study  of  a  Feature  of 
i6th  Century  Conventionalism  as  it  Reveals  Itself  in  Holinshed's  Chron- 
icle, ch.  ii,  Holinshed's  Provincialism)  :  "He  is  quite  incapable  of  com- 
prehending that  another  man's  view  may  be  tenable ;  or  that  truth,  honor 
and  magnanimity  can  possibly  exist  in  any  nation  hostile  to  the  English." 
Shakespeare's  source  for  Julius  Caesar  is  Plutarch;  but  he  was  satur- 
ated with  Holinshed.  I  believe,  then,  that  when  he  created  Julius 
Caesar  he  took  over  "our  histories'  "  prejudices  and  assimilated  Holins- 
hed's general  spirit  of  intolerance  towards  any  nation  hostile  to  Britain. 
Caesar  was  a  tyrant,  an  enemy  to  liberty  and  an  ancient  foe  of  England. 
Why  should  Shakespeare  glorify  him  to  an  Elizabethan  audience?  "Are 
we  to  conclude,"  says  Boas,  p.  459,  "that  Shakespeare  deliberately  in- 
tended to  turn  Caesar  into  a  laughing-stock  for  the  benefit  of  the  ground- 
lings in  the  Globe?"  I  think  not;  for  Shakespeare's  satire  of  Caesar 
is  not  so  broad  as  Professor  Boas'  question  impHes.  In  fact  M.  W.  Mac- 
Callum,  Shakespeare's  Roman  Plays  and  Their  Background,  1910,  p.  226, 
goes  so  far  as  to  say,  "The  impression  Julius  Caesar  makes  on  the  un- 
sophisticated mind,  on  average  audiences  and  the  elder  school  of  critics, 
is  undoubtedly  an  heroic  one."  The  truth  lies  somewhere  between  these 
extremes.  Shakespeare  did  satirize  Caesar,  but  subtly ;  how  far  his  aud- 
ience appreciated  the  satire  we  may  only  surmise.  If  Shakespeare  and 
his  company  presented  Caesar  as  Mr.  Allen  thinks— a  picturesque  hero  to 
amuse  Elizabethan  audiences — the  satirical  intent  was  apparent  to 
most;  if  more  heroically,  as  actors  commonly  interpret  him  today,  the 
satire  was  apparent  to  the  more  intelligent  portion  of  his  audience.  In 
either  case  I  believe  Shakespeare  conceived  Caesar  in  a  spirit  of  EUza- 
bethan  loyalty. 

To  summarize  the  two  views:  I  think  that  Shakespeare  embodied 
in  Julius  Caesar,  in  a  satirical  pseudo-Senecan  characterization,  an  Eliza- 
bethan and  a  British  conception  of  the  great  Roman  whose  vaunting 
ambition  presumed  even  to  subdue  Britain. 


LITERARY  SOURCES  OF  GOETHE'S  "URTASSO" 

William  A.  Cooper 

THE  PURPOSE  of  this  paper  is  to  offer  a  revised  list  of  the  Uterary 
sources  of  the  first  version  of  the  first  two  acts  of  Goethe's  drama, 
Torquato  Tasso.  For  brevity's  sake  this  early  version  may  be 
referred  to  as  the  Ur tasso. 

It  is  well  known  that  for  the  final  version  of  the  drama  the  poet 
made  very  large  use  of  Serassi's  La  vita  di  Torquato  Tasso  (1785), 
which  fell  into  his  hands  on  his  first  Italian  journey,  and  is  the  only 
source  book  he  mentions  specifically  in  connection  with  the  drama.  There 
are  a  great  many  reminiscences  of  Serassi  scattered  throughout  the 
whole  play,  including  even  the  first  two  acts. 

Since  the  Urtasso  has  not  been  preserved,  so  far  as  we  know,  and 
virtually  every  motive  of  the  drama  that  had  its  source  in  some  printed 
document,  rather  than  in  Goethe's  own  experience,  can  be  found  in  the 
text  or  the  footnotes  of  Serassi,  as  well  as  in  the  earlier  works  usually 
cited  as  Goethe's  sources,  it  is  a  difficult  task  to  determine  just  what 
were  the  motives  of  the  Urtasso,  and  how  thoroughgoing  was  Goethe's 
revision  of  these  two  acts.  Scholars  are  quite  generally  agreed,  how- 
ever, that  the  main  theme  of  the  first  act  was  the  coronation  of  Tasso 
by  the  Princess  Leonora,  and  the  main  theme  of  the  second  act  was  the 
challenge  which  all  but  resulted  in  a  duel  in  the  palace. 

The  first  of  these  themes  was  invented  by  Goethe,  who  expressly 
made  it  prefigure  the  poet's  later  coronation  at  the  Capitol  in  Rome, 
which,  as  we  know,  was  actually  planned  and  was  only  prevented  by  the 
poet's  untimely  death.  At  the  time  when  the  first  conception  of  the 
drama  was  assuming  shape  in  Goethe's  mind  we  find  him  sending  to 
Wieland  a  laurel  wreath  as  an  unworded  expression  of  what  he  deemed 
the  poet  of  Oberon  to  have  deserved.  Thus  we  see  Goethe  both  per- 
ceiving and  perpetuating  the  poetical  side  of  life,  a  process  which  may 
with  profit  be  followed  through  the  whole  history  of  the  writing  of  our 
drama.  How  he  was  making  of  the  Urtasso  a  vehicle  to  convey  his  love 
messages  to  Frau  von  Stein  we  know  from  many  of  the  contemporary 
billets-doux  which  he  dispatched  to  that  beloved  lady. 

The  only  motives  of  the  first  act  of  the  finished  drama  for  which 


8o  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

any  literary  source  might  have  been  needed  are  the  love  relation  between 
Tasso  and  the  Princess,  and  the  jealous  attitude  of  the  Secretary  of  State 
Antonio  toward  Tasso.  The  love  relation  was  the  chief  theme  of  the 
regular  Tasso-legend,  and  Goethe  retained  it  even  after  Serassi  had  char- 
acterized it  as  legendary.  The  original  delineation  of  the  jealous  cour- 
tier was  later,  no  doubt,  considerably  retouched,  to  make  the  character 
more  closely  resemble  the  historical  portrait  drawn  by  Serassi.  That 
there  was  a  character  corresponding  to  Antonio,  but  called  by  some 
other  name,  in  the  Urtasso,  would  hardly  be  questioned  nowadays,  in 
spite  of  Kuno  Fischer,  whose  elaborate  theory  may  be  clever  argument, 
but  certainly  is  not  convincing  proof.  We  know  from  manuscript  evi- 
dence that  the  secretary  was  not  always  called  Antonio,  having  been 
previously  known  as  Battista  Pigna,  and  he  must  even  have  had  a  still 
earlier  name,  for  Goethe  could  hardly  have  made  the  acquaintance  of 
Pigna  before  he  read  Serassi.  The  essential  thing  is  that  Tasso  had  a 
powerful  enemy  at  court,  and  this  fact  Goethe  must  have  known,  as  we 
shall  see,  even  before  Serassi's  biography  was  published. 

The  plot  of  the  second  act  of  the  finished  drama  results  naturally 
from  an  intermingling  of  the  love  motive  and  the  jealousy  motive  of  the 
first  act.  About  the  only  feature  of  the  action  for  which  a  literary 
source  would  perhaps  seem  necessary  is  the  breaking  of  the  peace  of  the 
palace  by  Tasso,  and  its  painful  consequences,  and  this  is  directly  trace- 
able to  the  world-popular,  though  more  or  less  legendary,  account  of 
Tasso's  duel  in  Ferrara,  which  made  his  reputation  as  a  swordsman  equal 
to,  if  not  greater  than,  that  as  a  poet. 

The  first  question  that  now  presents  itself  for  our  consideration  is, 
where  did  Goethe  become  acquainted  with  the  Tasso-legend?  Or  to  be 
more  specific,  what  did  he  read  that  left  him  with  the  distinct  impres- 
sions, (i)  that  a  love  relation  had  actually  existed  between  Tasso  and 
Princess  Leonora,  (2)  that  Tasso  had  had  a  powerful  enemy  at  court, 
(3)  and  that,  one  day,  in  the  palace,  in  a  fit  of  anger,  he  drew  his  sword 
and  challenged  a  supposed  enemy  to  a  duel,  with  the  result  that  he  him- 
self was  thrown  into  prison? 

As  Goethe  made  a  careful  study  of  historical  sources  before  writing 
Gotz  and  Egmont,  it  would  only  seem  natural  to  suppose  that  he  would 
study  the  chief  source  of  the  Tasso-legend,  Manso's  La  vita  di  Torquato 
Tasso  (1600-1621),  before  undertaking  to  write  a  Tasso-drama.  He 
himself  told  what  books  he  used  for  Gots  and  Egmont,  but  he  nowhere 
mentions  Manso  in  connection  with  Tasso,  never  speaks  of  him  at  all,  in 
fact.     For  this  and  other  reasons  it  has  long  seemed  to  me  unnecessary 


Goethe's  "urtasso"  —  cooper  8i 

to  suppose,  with  the  overwhelming  majority  of  writers  on  Tasso,  that 
Goethe  based  the  Urtasso  on  Manso.  He  could  have  found  all  the  source 
material  he  needed  in  other  works  which  there  is  some  evidence  that  he 
read. 

To  mention  but  one  of  the  few  criticisms  in  which  the  Manso-theory 
is  questioned,  Vollmer  says,  in  Goethes  Torquato  Tasso,  erldutert  und 
gewilrdigt  (2te  Aufl.,  Leipzig,  1909),  p.  85:  "Dafiir,  dass  Goethe  bei 
der  ersten  Bearbeitung  das  von  Kopp  als  Quelle  zitierte  Werk  Mansos, 
des  Zeitgenossen  und  Freundes  von  Tasso,  selbst  gelesen,  wie  die  meisten 
Erklarer,  auch  Diintzer  und  Fischer,  annehmen,  habe  ich  keine  sichere 
Spur  gefunden."  Apparently  Vollmer's  only  reason  for  not  discarding 
the  Manso  theory  entirely  was  the  fact  that  Goethe's  lines  1048  fT.  are 
evidently  based  on  one  of  Tasso's  madrigals  cited  by  Manso.  But  he 
is  careful  to  remark  that  such  a  slender  basis  for  the  whole  theory  is 
"schwerlich  zum  Beweise  geniigend"  (p.  28).  Even  assuming  that  lines 
1048  ff.  were  a  part  of  the  prose  Urtasso,  Vollmer's  slight  difficulty  can 
be  entirely  removed  by  reference  to  Heinse's  essay  on  Tasso,  in  the  Iris, 
where  we  find  the  substance  of  the  madrigal  incorporated,  with  the  same 
interpretation  as  that  adopted  by  Goethe. 

As  there  is  then  no  evidence  whatever  that  Goethe  ever  read  Manso, 
let  us  eliminate  his  Vita  di  Torquato  Tasso,  hitherto  almost  universally 
accepted  as  Goethe's  first  authority,  from  the  list  of  the  Urtasso  sources, 
and  examine  the  record  of  Goethe's  study  of  Tasso  to  see  what  we  can 
find  to  replace  Manso. 

His  acquaintance  with  the  Italian  poet  began  at  an  early  age.  In 
the  second  book  of  Dichtitng  und  Wahrheit  he  says  that  there  was  a 
copy  of  Kopp's  translation  of  the  Jerusalem  Delivered  in  his  father's 
library,  which  he  industriously  read  and  partly  memorized.^  It  was  only 
natural  that  he  should  read  the  book,  as  Tasso  was  a  favorite  author  of 
his  father.  How  deeply  his  childish  spirit  was  affected  by  certain  scenes 
of  the  Jerusalem  he  tells  us  in  an  autobiographical  passage  in  the  ninth 
chapter  of  Wilhelm  Meisters  theatralische  Sendung  (seventh  chapter  of 
the  Lehrjahre) ,  where  we  also  learn  that  he  early  made  an  unsuccessful 
attempt  to  adapt  his  favorite  scenes  to  the  puppet  stage.  In  a  letter  to 
his  sister  from  Leipzig  (December  7,  1765)  he  recommends  to  her  that 


^  Versuch  einer  poetischen  Uebersetsung  des  Tassoischen  Heldengedichis 
genannt:  Gottfried,  oder  das  Befreyte  Jerusalem,  ausgearbeitet  von  J.  F.  Koppen, 
Leipzig,  Breitkopf,  1744.  This  translation  appears  as  No.  85  of  the  octavo  volumes 
in  the  catalogue  of  Goethe's  father's  library,  printed  after  his  death  for  the  auction 
sale  of  August  18,  1794. 


82-  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

she  read  the  Jerusalem,  if  she  can  make  it  out, — meaning  the  original. 
In  another  letter  to  her  (May  28,  1766)  he  quotes  "le  clinquant  du  Tasse" 
from  Boileau's  ninth  satire  (173-176),  and  says  that  Boileau  is  a  man 
who  can  mold  our  taste,  a  thing  which  can  never  be  expected  from  a 
Tasso.  Four  months  later  (September  27)  he  touches  on  the  same  sub- 
ject again  and  speaks  of  the  Jerusalem  as  a  very  Gothic  work  which  one 
ought  not  to  read  without  a  good  deal  of  attention  and  discernment,  in 
order  not  to  acquire  a  bad  taste  by  admiring  Tasso  even  to  his  faults. 
To  this  advice  he  joins  a  passage  from  Boileau's  criticism  of  the 
Jerusalem  in  L'art  poetique  (HI,  210  fi.).  In  the  same  letter  he  asks  his 
sister  whether  she  would  advise  anybody  to  learn  English  from  Milton 
and  Young,  Italian  from  Tasso  and  Ariosto,  and  German  from  Gesner 
and  Klopstock.  In  a  later  letter  (May  11,  1767)  he  expresses  delight 
that  his  sister  has  undertaken  to  defend  Tasso,  and  quotes,  in  defense 
of  Tasso,  against  the  criticism  of  Boileau,  thirty  lines  from  Marmontel's 
Epitre  aux  poctes  sur  les  charmes  de  I' etude,  to  the  sentiments  of  which 
he  subscribes  in  the  hope  of  making  peace  with  both  his  sister  and  Tasso. 
No  further  evidence  is  necessary  to  establish  beyond  question  young 
Goethe's  familiarity  with  the  Jerusalem  Delivered,  in  the  original  as  well 
as  in  translation. 

We  assume  as  a  matter  of  course  that  Goethe  read  Kopp's  intro- 
duction to  his  translation  of  the  Jerusalem.  In  that  introduction  we  read 
(beginning  on  p.  xv,  if  we  supply  the  wanting  pagination)  :  "Das  Jahr 
hernach  kam  er  [Tasso]  wieder  zuriick  nach  Ferrara,  und  liess  das 
Hirtengedicht,  Amyntas  genannt,  daselbst  zum  ersten  ans  Licht  treten, 
wodurch  er  sich  die  Ehre  der  Erfindung  der  sogenannten  Pastorellen 
oder  Schaferspiele  zuwege  gebracht  hat.  Allein  nunmehro  bahnte  ihm 
die  Liebe  allmahlich  den  Weg  zu  den  grossen  Widerv/artigkeiten,  die 
ihm  durch  einen  grossen  Theil  seines  Lebens  begegnet  sind,  und  endUch 
gar  seinen  friihzeitigen  Tod  nach  sich  gezogen  haben.  Er  verliebte  sich 
namlich  in  ein  vornehmes  Frauenzimmer,  Leonora  genannt,  und  hielt 
wegen  Ungleichheit  des  Standes  seine  Liebe  so  geheim,  dass  man  auch 
nicht  einmal  gewiss  weiss,  wer  diese  Leonora  eigentlich  gewesen  ist, 
indem  etliche  auf  die  Prinzessinn  von  Ferrara,  des  Herzogs  Alphonsens 
leibliche  Sch wester,  andre  wiederum  auf  eine  Grafinn  von  Sanvitale, 
und  endlich  auch  auf  eine  Kammerfraulein  obgedachter  Prinzessinn, 
Namens  Leonora,  muthmassen.  Es  mag  nun  aber  eine  Person,  welche 
es  wolle,  von  diesen  dreyen  gewesen  seyn,  wiewohl  die  Meynung 
derjenigen,  die  auf  die  Prinzessinn  Leonora  denken,  der  Wahrheit  am 
nachsten  zu  kommen  scheint,  so  ist  gewiss,  dass  die  Gemiithsverwirrung, 


Goethe's  "urtasso"  —  cooper  83 

in  welche  Tasso  nach  der  Hand  gerathen  ist,  und  die  durch  Entkraftung 
seines  Leibes  sein  Ende  befordert  hat,  von  dieser  ungliicklichen  Liebe 
herriihret.  Es  mochte  namlich  einer  von  den  ferrarischen  Hofleuten, 
mit  welchem  Tasso  in  vertrauter  Freundschaft  gelebet,  etwas  zu  viel 
von  dem  Liebesgeheimnisse  seines  Freundes  geredet  haben,  und  dieses 
nahm  der  beleidigte  Dichter  so  iibel  auf,  dass  er  sich  in  der  Burg  des 
Herzogs  seinern  gewesenen  Vertrauten  die  an  ihm  begangene  Treulosig- 
keit  mit  bittern  Worten  vorwarf,  und  ihm  endlich  gar  in  der  Hitze  einen 
Schlag  ins  Gesicht  versetzte.  Der  andere  forderte  ihn  hierauf  heraus, 
und  Tasso  hielt  sich  im  Zweykampfe  so  tapfer,  dass  er  nicht  nur  seinen 
Feind  schwerlich  verwundete,  sondem  auch,  als  wider  Treu  und  Glauben 
drey  Briider  seines  Gegners  an  dem  Gefechte  wider  ihn  Theil  nahmen, 
sich  gegen  alle  viere  so  lange  wehrte,  bis  sie  von  einer  Menge  Volks, 
welche  darzu  kam,  von  einander  gebracht  wurden.  Dieses  muthige 
Bezeigen  unsers  Poeten  brachte  ihm  nun  zwar  uberall  einen  neuen  Ruhm 
zuwege,  indem  man  offentUch  sprach :  dass  Tasso  im  Degen  nicht 
weniger,  als  in  der  Feder,  uniiberwindlich  ware ;  allein  da  er  hierauf 
auf  Befehl  des  Herzogs,  nachdem  seine  Widersacher  entwichen,  und 
ihre  Giiter  eingezogen  worden  waren,  in  Verhaft  genommen  wurde, 
um,  wie  Alphonsus  vorgab,  ihn  wider  alle  fernere  Nachstellungen  in 
Sicherheit  zu  setzen,  so  nahm  dieses  Tasso,  welcher  nicht  anders  glaubte, 
als  ob  der  Herzog  von  seinem  Leibesgeheimnisse  Nachricht  bekommen, 
und  desswegen  eine  so  grosse  Ungnade  auf  ihn  geworfen  hatte, 
dergestalt  zu  Herzen,  dass  er  in  eine  ausserordentliche  Traurigkeit  und 
Angst  gerieth,  welche  endlich  zu  einer  oftern  Verwirrung  seines 
Verstandes  ausschlug,  und  ihn  in  einen  bejammernswiirdigen  Zustand 
versetzte.  Wenige  Zeit  zuvor,  namlich  im  Jahre  1574,  hatte  er  im  30. 
Jahre  seines  Alters  das  hefreyte  Jerusalem  zu  Stande  gebracht,  und 
grosse  Ehre  damit  eingelegt,  nichts  destoweniger  aber  auch  verschiedene 
Widersacher  gefunden,  die  ihm  in  sehr  bittern  Schriften  die  grossten 
Fehler  in  diesem  Heldengedichte  zeigen  wollen." 

This  passage  gives  the  gist  of  the  part  of  the  regular  Tasso-legend 
covering  the  particular  period  of  Tasso's  life  with  which  Goethe's  drama 
is  concerned.  The  love  relation  is  narrated  in  such  a  striking  way  that 
Goethe  retained  its  essential  features  even  after  Serassi  had  sought  to 
relegate  it  to  the  realm  of  fiction.  To  be  sure,  in  the  finished  drama  we 
find  only  two  of  the  traditional  three  Leonoras,  the  third  having  been 
completely  stared  out  of  countenance  by  the  critical  Serassi.  The  duel  is 
given  considerable  prominence,  but  we  find  as  Tasso's  opponent,  instead 
of  the  jealous  Antonio,  a  gossiping  courtier  who  has  betrayed  Tasso's 


84  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL   VOLUME 

love  secret.  As  this  opponent  journeys  incognito  through  most  of  the 
pre-Serassian  literature  on  Tasso,  we  do  not  know  by  what  name  he  was 
called  in  the  Urtasso.  In  another  passage  of  Kopp's  introduction,  not 
quoted  here,  he  refers  briefly  to  the  famous  controversy  over  the  com- 
parative greatness  of  Tasso  and  Ariosto.  This  motive  is  skillfully  em- 
ployed by  Goethe  at  the  very  beginning  of  the  hostile  relation  between 
Tasso  and  Antcnio. 

The  next  literary  document  which  we  have  every  reason  to  believe 
young  Goethe  read  is  one  that  has  hitherto  escaped  the  attention  of 
scholars.  In  one  of  Wolfgang's  Leipzig  letters  to  his  sister  he  says  that 
his  father's  library  contained  a  copy  of  the  Jerusalem  in  the  original.  In 
the  auction  catalogue  of  the  library  already  referred  to  I  found  as  num- 
bers 44  and  45  of  the  duodecimo  volumes  the  two  volumes  of  the  Gerusa- 
lemme  liberata  published  in  Venice  in  1705.  By  reference  to  Serassi's  bib- 
liography I  discovered  that  with  this  edition  was  regularly  bound  in  at 
the  end  of  the  second  volume  a  copy  of  the  Vita  di  Torquato  Tasso, 
scritta  dal  Cavalier  Guido  Casoni.  Without  doubt  this  27-page  essay  was 
the  first  biographical  account  of  Tasso's  life  in  Italian  that  fell  into 
young  Goethe's  hands,  and  we  may  safely  assume  that  he  read  it. 

Casoni  draws  upon  Manso  for  the  few  incidents  he  relates  from  the 
life  of  his  hero,  and  his  own  contributions  are  in  the  nature  of  attempts 
to  explain  the  poet's  madness.  He  credits  Tasso  with  great  fortitude  in 
adversity  and  counts  him  no  less  distinguished  for  his  perfect  habits  and 
his  complete  self-control  than  for  his  great  writings.  He  makes  him 
out  beloved  of  men,  but  not  of  fortune.  His  theory,  that  Tasso's  melan- 
cholia is  the  natural  accompaniment  of  his  superior  intellect,  he  supports 
by  the  authority  of  Aristotle,  Democritus,  and  Plato.  The  divine  fury  he 
considers  essential  to  the  poetic  faculty.  The  theory  of  humors  is 
adduced  to  explain  how  Tasso's  love  for  Leonora  led  to  his  madness.  But 
while  the  poet's  fancy  was  admittedly  deranged,  his  intellect  is  said  to 
have  remained  clear,  a  state  set  forth  as  in  harmony  with  the  theories  of 
Aetius,  Avicenna,  and  others.  Finally,  Tasso  is  portrayed  as  having 
become  sane  again  before  his  death. 

This  essay  was  well  calculated  to  confirm  the  impression  made  by 
Kopp's  introduction,  that  Tasso's  love  for  the  Princess  Leonora  was  the 
source  of  his  many  sorrows. 

The  theory  that  Goethe's  chief  source  for  the  Urtasso  was  Manso 
presupposes  that  when  he  read  essays  on  Tasso  that  referred  to  Manso 
as  the  chief  original  authority  on  which  they  were  based  he  must  have 
secured  a  copy  of  Manso  and  studied  it.   Now  Kopp  says  on  the  first  and 


Goethe's  "urtasso"  —  cooper  85 

second  pages  of  his  unpaged  Vorrede:  "Das  Leben  des  Tasso  hat  sein 
vertrauter  Freund,  Johann  Baptista  Manso,  Marchese  di  Villa,  umstand- 
lich  beschrieben;  noch  weitlauftiger  aber  ist  die  Lebensbeschreibung, 
welche  ein  ungenannter  Franzose  (der  nach  des  Crescimbeni  Berichte 
der  Abbe  de  Charnes  seyn  soil)  unter  dem  Titel :  La  vie  du  Tasse,  Prince 
des  poetes  Italiens,  a  Paris,  1690  und  1695  in  12  herausgegeben  hat." 
It  is  just  as  reasonable  to  suppose  that  Goethe  read  this  biography  as  that 
of  Manso,  in  view  of  what  Kopp  says  of  the  two.  If  we  had  any  docu- 
mentary evidence  that  Goethe  actually  read  this  book  it  would  be  an  easy 
matter  to  point  out  in  it  all  the  source  material  he  would  have  needed 
for  his  Urtasso.  But  we  are  forced  to  leave  this  work  ofif  the  list  of 
sources,  along  with  Manso,  till  some  documentary  evidence  is  brought 
forward  to  warrant  including  it. 

The  third  and  last  biographical  essay  to  be  included  in  our  list  is 
Heinse's  Das  Leben  Tassos,  which  appeared  in  installments  in  the  first 
two  numbers  of  Jacobi's  Iris,  October  and  November,  1774.  It  is  easy 
enough  to  understand  why  Kopp's  introductory  essay  should  have  been 
neglected  by  so  many  scholars.  His  book  is  so  scarce  that  few  investi- 
gators have  ever  seen  a  copy.  The  reason  for  neglecting  Heinse  is  dif- 
ferent. Hermann  Grimm  saw  significance  in  the  Iris  essay  as  a  means 
of  refreshing  Goethe's  memory  on  the  chief  points  in  the  life  of  his 
spiritual  kinsman  of  the  Italian  Renaissance.  However,  Grimm  thought 
that  from  this  reading  sprang  at  once  the  conception  of  our  drama,  and 
it  is  little  wonder  that  such  utter  disregard  of  documented  chronology 
caused  the  would-be  all-Goethe-knowing  Diintzer  to  fly  into  a  rage  and 
submerge  Grimm's  thought  in  a  deluge  of  derision.  It  was  only  after 
Goethe  had  become  involved  in  his  love  affair  with  Frau  von  Stein  and 
had  been  appointed  a  member  of  the  Duke's  "Conseil"  that  he  began  to 
experience  the  double  conflict,  later  to  be  portrayed  in  Tasso,  wherein  he 
put  to  himself  the  thoroughly  characteristic  question   (Tasso,  3422-5): 

"Hilft  denn  kein  Beispiel  der  Geschichte  mehr? 
Stellt  sich  kein  edler  Mann  mir  vor  die  Augen, 
Der  mehr  gelitten,  als  ich  jemals  litt, 
Damit  ich  mich  mit  ihm  vergleichend  fasse?" 

Heinse's  essay  contains  some  passages  that  ofifend  against  good  taste, 
and  is  pervaded  by  too  patronizing  an  attitude  toward  his  supposedly 
feminine  public.  But  this  does  not  justify  Diintzer  and  others  who  follow 
him  in  saying  that  Goethe  derived  nothing  for  his  Tasso  from  Heinse's 
ladies'  journal  article.    Before  dealing  with  the  possible  influence  of  the 


86  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

article  on  the  drama  let  us  take  a  moment  to  consider  the  relation  of  the 
two  authors  to  one  another. 

Before  Goethe  had  met  Heinse  he  had  read  Laidion  and  had  spoken 
of  it  in  terms  of  highest  praise.  After  their  meeting  Heinse  spoke  of  his 
very  friendly  associations  with  Goethe  and  their  discussions  of  his 
(Heinse's)  works.  Goethe's  familiarity  with  the  Iris  needs  no  proof,  and 
so  it  goes  without  saying  that  he  read  the  Tasso  essay. 

In  the  course  of  Heinse's  description  of  the  love  relation  between 
Tasso  and  the  Princess  we  find  this  statement  (57  f.)  :  "Jeder  Bewun- 
derer  des  Tasso  muss  die  Asche  dieser  Prinzessinn  segnen ;  denn  sie  ist 
die  Schopferinn  alles  des  Guten,  was  wir  von  ihm  haben.  Ihr  allein,  oder, 
welches  einerley  ist,  seiner  Leidenschaft  gegen  sie  haben  wir  die  schon- 
sten  Stellen  im  Aminta,  und  die  grossten  Reize  seiner  Armida  zu  ver- 
danken.  Sie  war  der  Hauptgegenstand  in  seinem  Leben,  den  Geist  und 
Herz  in  ihm  in  eine  Masse  von  Feuer  zerronnen  in  dem  hochsten  Grad 
empfunden  haben,  in  dem  ein  Wesen  empfinden  kann ;  und  nur  der- 
gleichen  starke  Gefiihle  sind  die  Quellen,  woraus  das  Genie  den  Durstigen 
Erquickung  darzureichen  vermag." 

Heinse  says  Tasso  was  loved  by  everybody  at  the  court,  "einen  ein- 
zigen  ausgenommen,  der  aber  der  Liebling  des  Herzogs  war,  und  ihm  so 
viel  schadete,  als  die  Liebe  aller  andern  nicht  vergiiten  konnte.  Dieser 
befiirchtete,  schon  vor  seiner  Ankunft,  sein  Herr  mochte  im  Umgange 
mit  ihm  zu  klug  zu  seinem  Nachtheil  werden,  und  mahlte  selbst  den  Hof 
ihm  mit  den  widrigsten  Farben  ab,  um  ihn  davon  zu  entfernen;  da  dem 
Herzog  auf  keine  feine  Art  auszureden  war,  ihn  zu  sich  zu  bitten."  A 
later  passage  tells  how  Tasso  got  even  with  this  minister- favorite  of  the 
Duke,  by  lampooning  him  in  the  pastoral  Aminta:  "Er  [Tasso]  stellte 
sich  selbst  in  einer  Person  des  Stiicks,  im  Tyrsis  vor,  und  macht  eine 
schone  Beschreibung  vom  Herzoge,  seinem  Hofe,  sich  und  seinem 
Feinde,  den  er  Mopso  nennt,  und  dessen  Charakter  er  in  Gegenwart  des 
ganzen  Hofs,  und  seiner  selbst,  so  frey  schilderte:  Honigworte  hat  er 
auf  der  Zunge,  und  auf  den  Lippen  ein  freundliches  Lacheln,  aber  den 
Betrug  im  Busen,  und  den  Dolch  unter  dem  Mantel ;  und  darauf  noch 
erzahlte,  was  er  ihm  sagte,  um  ihn  vom  Hofe  zu  entfernen."  In  another 
passage  we  read :  "Dieser  Mann  aber,  dessen  Namen  weder  er  noch  einer 
seiner  Freunde  und  Zeitverwandten  fiir  werth  gehalten,  von  der  Nach- 
welt  ausgesprochen  zu  werden,  hatte  in  der  Kunst,  die  grossen  Herren 
zu  beherrschen,  ausgelernt,  die  ihm  [Tasso]  ganzlich  unbekannt  war; 
weil  man  sie,  ohne  eine  Kleopatra  zur  Grossmutter  zu  haben,  aus  Biichern 
nicht  lernen  kann,  so  sehr  sie  auch  dazu  die  Herren  Literatoren  anpreisen. 


Goethe's  "urtasso"  —  cooper  87 

Der  Herzog  konnte  ihn  nicht  mehr  missen.  Er  war  die  Seele  seiner 
Regierung  geworden,  der  Ausspaher  seiner  Vergniigen.  .  .  .  Er 
sammelte  zuerst,  um  ihm  den  Tasso  verachtlich  zu  machen,  alle  bittere 
Kritiken,  die  iiber  das  befreyte  Jerusalem,  und  seine  andern  Gedichte  und 
Schriften,  von  Neidern  gemacht  wurden,  und  wusste,  sie  gelegentlich, 
wahrend  seiner  Gefangenschaft  und  Abwesenheit,  eine  nach  der  andern, 
Oder  vvenigstens  das  bitterste  daraus,  dem  Herzoge  mitzutheilen  .  .  . 
Nach  des  Tasso  Ankunft  erzahlte  er,  wie  von  ohngefehr,  er  hab'  ihn  auch 
gesehn  und  gesprochen,  als  er  eben  von  der  Prinzessinn  gekommen  sey, 
und  Mitleiden  mit  ihm  gehabt,  und  brachte  darauf,  nach  einigen  guther- 
zigen  stechenden  Wortern,  im  besten  Ton,  uber  seine  traurige  Gestalt, 
dem  Herzoge  bey,  dass  er  vor  Liebespein  ein  wenig  den  Verstand  verlohr- 
en  habe;  er  hoffe  aber,  in  der  ferrarischen  Luft  ihn  bald  wieder  herge- 
stellt  zu  sehn.     Alles  dieses  musste  seine  Wirkung  thun." 

The  essay  has  much  more  to  say  about  the  love  affair,  and  the  court 
enemy,  also  a  good  deal  about  the  friend  who  betrayed  Tasso's  secret, 
the  violation  of  the  "Burgfrieden,"  the  resulting  duel,  and  the  "room- 
arrest,"  as  well  as  the  comparison  between  Tasso  and  Ariosto,  and  the 
preparation  for  the  coronation  of  the  poet  at  the  Capitol  in  Rome. 

From  all  this  it  must  be  clear  to  anybody  approaching  the  subject 
with  an  open  mind  that  we  have  before  us  an  account,  fanciful,  to  be 
sure,  and  showing  the  author  squinting  an  eye  at  his  lady  readers,  as  he 
writes  German  Storm  and  Stress  into  the  Italian  Renaissance, — but,  after 
all,  an  account  containing  every  essential  element  of  what  must  have  been 
the  plot  of  the  Urtasso.  The  love  affair  is  portrayed  as  sincere  on  both 
sides  and  the  Princess  becomes  for  Tasso  the  inspiration  of  his  most 
striking  creations,  just  as  Frau  von  Stein  was  for  Goethe.  The  Antonio 
motive  is  elaborately  introduced  in  the  person  of  the  nameless  minister. 
Kopp,  Casoni,  and  Heinse  furnished  Goethe  with  all  the  source 
material  he  needed  for  the  Urtasso. 


THE  USE  OF  STARE  IN  HORACE  SAT.  I,  9,  39 
AND  JUVENAL  I,   149 

Jefferson  Elmore 


T 


HE  PASSAGE  from  Horace  is  as  follows : 

Ventum  erat  ad  Vestae,  quarta  iam  parte  diei 

Praeterita,  et  casu  tunc  respondere  vadato 

Debebat;    quod  ni  fecisset,  perdere  litem. 

'Si  me  amas,'  inquit,  'paulum  hie  ades.'     'inteream,  si 

Aut  valeo  stare  aut  novi  civilia  iura : 

Et  propero  quo  scis.'    'dubius  sum  quid  faciam'  inquit. 

The  poet  in  passing  through  the  forum  is  beset  by  a  stranger  who 
happens  at  the  moment  to  have  a  case  pending  in  court  and  who  begs 
Horace  to  assist  him.  The  latter  is  unwilling,  giving  as  a  reason 
inteream  si  .  .  .  valeo  stare.  The  late  Professor  Verrall,  in  a 
paper  on  this  passage,^  reached  the  conclusion  that  stare  offered  so  many 
difficulties  that  it  ought  not  to  be  retained  in  the  text.  He  proposed 
accordingly  to  read  ista  re,  or  (using  the  shortened  form  of  the  pronoun) 
sta  re,  taking  valeo  ista  (sta)  re  to  mean,  "I  am  competent  in  this  afifair 
of  yours."  The  proposal  is  most  ingenious,  but  can  hardly  be  right.  Ista 
re  does  not  so  much  express  the  quality  in  which  the  speaker  is  competent 
as  the  object  toward  which  his  competency  is  directed,  and  in  normal 
Latin  would  require  in  or  ad  with  the  accusative.  Read  in  this  way  the 
text  also  acquires  a  pronounced  tautology,  being  only  a  more  general 
statement  of  novi  civilia  iura.  While  one  can  not,  therefore,  accept 
Verrall's  brilliant  suggestion,  he  will  agree  that  stare  is  in  need  of  further 
elucidation. 

In  the  current  explanations  the  endeavor  is  made  to  apply  here  a  par- 
ticular conception  of  the  act  of  standing, — I  mean  standing  as  the  op- 
posite of  sitting,  reclining,  etc.,  which,  though  common,  is  not  the  only 
form  which  the  idea  may  assume.  The  scholiast  of  Cruquius,  who  is  fol- 
lowed by  several  modern  editors,^  takes  the  matter  in  quite  literal  fashion, 


^  Stare  in   Horace,   Sat.   I,  9,  39,  Journal  of  Philology,  XIII,  56  f.,   reprinted 
in  "Studies  in  Greek  and  Latin  Scholarship,"  354  f. 
^  Kriiger,  Schiitz,  Kiessling,  Rolfe,  Morris. 


USE  OF  'stare'  in  HORACE  AND  JUVENAL ELMORE  89 

understanding  Horace  to  mean  that  he  can  not  endure  the  exertion  of 
standing  during  the  trial.  This  physical  delicacy  is  inconsistent  with  the 
et  propero  quo  scis  of  the  following  line;  and  moreover  there  is 
nothing  in  our  knowledge  of  the  Roman  courts  which  warrants  the  belief 
that  Horace  would  have  been  obliged  to  stand.  Others,^  apparently  fol- 
lowing the  lead  of  Heindorff,  have  given  to  standing  in  court  the  tech- 
nical sense  of  appearing  as  an  advocate.  Stare  is  thus  equivalent  to 
adesse,  and  this  is,  indeed,  the  service  which  the  stranger  asked  Horace 
to  perform.  It  is  not  clear,  however,  that  stare  can  have  this  meaning, 
the  only  authority  being  two  passages  in  Plautus,*  which  are  themselves 
capable  of  a  different  interpretation.  Even  if  this  were  not  the  case,  the 
only  result  would  be  to  convict  Horace  of  having  said  the  same  thing 
twice  in  the  same  line.  With  respect  to  the  courts  stare  does  nevertheless 
possess  a  technical  meaning,  that  of  appearing  as  a  party  to  a  suit.  This 
point  was  first  elaborated  by  Roby  ^  in  a  paper  called  out  by  Verrall's 
emendation,  and  is  substantiated  by  quotations  from  Cicero  **  and  the 
legal  writers.'  Roby  accordingly  maintains  that  Horace  is  here  express- 
ing his  inability  to  be  a  party  to  the  suit.  This  would  seem  almost  a 
reduction  to  absurdity.  Horace  w^as  not  and  could  not  be  a  party  to  the 
stranger's  suit.  Why,  then,  make  a  point  of  refusing  to  be  present  in  this 
character  ? 

It  seems  evident  that  stare  here  requires  a  different  conception  of 
standing,  and  this  I  think  may  be  found  in  regarding  it  as  the  opposite 
of  being  in  motion  on  the  feet — the  other  fundamental  way  of  looking  at 
this  particular  act.  The  opposition  may  be  emphasized  as  in  standing 
still  or  standing  fast,  or  it  may  consist  merely  in  ceasing  from  motion,  as 
in  stopping  or  coming  to  a  halt.  This  relation  finds  expression  in  the 
semasiology  of  both  the  English  'stand'  and  the  German  'stehen,'  and  I 
wish  to  show  that  this  is  also  the  case  with  stare,  which  has  thus  acquired 
the  force  of  consistere.  The  matter  has  been  much  neglected  by  the 
lexicographers.  In  the  first  place  we  find  stare  meaning  'to  be  station- 
ary,' as  in  Cic.  Acad,  ii,  123  :  caelum,  solem,  lunam,  stellas,  supera  denique 
omnia  stare  censet,  neque  praeter  terram  ullam  rem  in  mundo  moveri ; 
and  'to  stand  firm,'  as  in  Livy  xxii,  60,  25 :  cum  in  acie  stare  ac  pugnare 
decuerat,  in  castra  refugerent.  These  meanings  presuppose  that  of  con- 
sistere, but  the  latter  is  itself  found  even  in  the  earlier  language  of 
Comedy.    Cf.  Plant.  Amphytr.  276:    ita  statim  stant  signa,  neque  nox 


*Cf.  Orelli,  Duentzer,  Palmer.  *Men.  799,  Rud.  iioi. 

'Journal  of  Philology,  XIII,  233  f.  '  Quinct.  25. 

'Gaius  iv,  185.     Ulpian  in  Dig.  ii,  11,  4,  i.     Dig.  xlv,  i,  81. 


90 


FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 


quoquam  concedit  die.     Id.  Merc.  872:    Eu.  sta  ilico.     Ch.  male   facis 
properantem   qui    me   commorare,    Ter.    Phorm.    190:     sta   ilico.     The 
usage    apparently    does    not    occur    in    Cicero    or    Caesar;     of    later 
writers  it  is  found  most  frequently  in  Tacitus,  who  has  at  least  a  half 
dozen  examples ;   in  fact  it  seems  to  be  congenial  to  the  rhetorical  spirit 
of  the  early  empire.     Thus  Seneca,  Oed.  585:    gelidus  in  venis  stetit, 
haesitque  sanguis,  PUny  Epp.  vii,  3 :   nescit  enim  semel  incitata  liberalitas 
stare.     Juvenal  iii,  290  (of  the  footpad)  :    stat  starique  iubet.     Tacitus, 
Agr.  16,  23 :  seditio  sine  sanguine  stetit.  Id.  Hist,  iv,  67,  11  :  Sequanorum 
prospera  acie  belli  impetus  stetit.  Id.  An.  iii,  72,  11:   Seianum  extulit  tam- 
quam  labore     .     .     .     eius  tanta  vis  unum  intra  damnum  stetisset.^     Id. 
An.  xii,  22,  14:    unde  ira  Agrippinae  citra  ultima  stetit.     Gellius  xiv,  5 
(Androclus  and  the  Hon)  :  Hunc  ille  leo  ubi  videt  procul  repente  quasi  ad- 
mirans    stetit,    ac    deinde    sensim    atque    placide     ...     ad   hominem 
accedit.   Arnobius,  i,  45 :    cuius  ex  levi  tactu  stabant  profluvia  sanguinis, 
et  immoderatos  cohibebant  fluores.     Id.  iii,  44 :    Quare  si  vobis  liquet 
.     in   unius  proloquii  finibus  convenit  vos   stare,    nee  per  varias 
.     .     .     sententias   fidepi     .     .     .     derogare.     These   quotations,   which 
could  be  increased  in  number  by  a  more  diligent  search,  are  sufficient 
to  show  that  stare  in  the  sense  of  consistere  is  a  well  authenticated  usage. 
It  is  this  use  of  the  word  w^hich  I  think  should  also  be  recognized 
in  the  passage  from  Horace.     It  is  clearly  what  Porphyrio  had  in  mind 
when  he  glossed  stare  with  expectare,^  the  latter  being  equivalent  to  con- 
sistere plus  the  delay  which  the  idea  of  stopping  may  always  imply.    This 
view  also  permits  valeo  to  be  taken  in  its  characteristic  connotation  of  an 
inner  or  moral  ability.^"  Physically  Horace  can  stop  for  the  trial  if  he  so 
desires,  but  there  are  considerations  which  render  his  doing  so  out  of  the 
question.    Pie  is  in  no  position  to  tarry,  one  reason  for  which  he  gives  in 
et   propero   quo   scis.     This   latter   statement    is   no   longer   inconsistent 
with  stare,  but  stands  in  a  logical  relation  to  it.    Indeed  the  use  of  propero 
is  especially  appropriate  in  that  it  serves  actually  to  reveal  the  significance 
of  stare  as  the  opposite  of  its  own ;    otherwise,  even  the  Roman  reader 
might  have  misunderstood.     In  Plaut.  Merc.  872,  already  quoted,  there 
occurs  a  similar  conjunction  of  these  two  words.     Finally  it  may  be 


'Cf.  Hist,  iii,  53,  7-     An.  iii,  75,  11. 

•  Porphyrio  ad  loc.     Hoc  Horatius  dicens  negat  se  posse  eum  expectare. 

*"  Krebs-Schmalz,  Antibarbarus,  ii  648,  Uebrigens  liegt  in  valeo  nur  das 
virtuelle  konnen,  die  innere  Kraft  haben,  imstande  sein  etwas  zu  vollbringen, 
dagegen  in  posse  das  active,  konnen,  wo  die  Moglichkeit  stattfindet  etwas 
auszurichten. 


USE  OF    STARE     IN    HORACE  AND  JUVENAL  9I 

claimed  that  this  interpretation  gives  to  the  text  a  consistent  and  straight- 
forward meaning.  Horace  refuses  to  aid  the  stranger  for  two  reasons : 
(i)  he  is  in  no  position  to  stop  for  the  trial,  inasmuch  as  he  is  going  in 
haste  on  another  errand ;  (2)  he  knows  nothing  at  all  about  the  civil  law. 
We  may  now  consider  whether  a  similar  conception  lies  back  of 
Juvenal  i,  149: — 

Nil  erit  ulterius  quod  nostris  moribus  addat 
Posteritas,  eadem  facient  cupientque  minores : 
Omne  in  praecipiti  vitium  stetit.     Utere  uelis. 

This  passage  has  had  much  the  same  history  as  the  one  from  Horace. 
It  was  Palmer  who  proposed  to  deal  with  stetit  by  emendation,  making 
the  line  read 

Omne  in  praecipiti  vitium  est.     eia  utere  uelis, 

but  this  correction  (unlike  Verrall's)  has  not  even  cleverness  to  recom- 
mend it.  Juvenal's  general  idea,  the  extreme  prevalence  of  vice  in  his 
time,  is  clear  enough.  In  his  edition  of  1839,  Heinrich  interpreted  in 
pracipiti  as  "auf  dem  hochsten  Gipfel,"  in  which  he  was  followed  by  both 
Friedlander  and  Mayor.  In  this  view  vice  stands  at  the  top  of  an 
eminence  and  is  thus  shown  at  the  climax.  But  when  the  eminence  is 
called  praeceps,  it  also  implies  the  idea  of  descent.  Taking  this  fact  into 
account,  H.  Richards  "  suggested  an  altogether  new  rendering:  "All  vice 
stands  on  a  sheer  descent,"  or  as  Wilson  translates,  "vice  always  stands 
on  a  steep  incline."  The  point  of  this,  as  Richards  explains,  is  that  "once 
start  and  you  soon  reach  the  bottom.  We  have  already  reached  it,  and 
posterity  can  go  no  further."  This  is  supposed  to  be  supported  by  such 
passages  as  Sen.  Ep.  97,  10 :  non  pronum  est  tantum  ad  vitia  sed  praeceps, 
and  Sen.  Dial,  iii,  7,  4,  where  the  philosopher  speaks  of  vitiorum  natura 
proclivis.  It  will  be  noted  that  in  the  older  view  climax  is  represented 
by  being  at  the  top  of  an  eminence ;  in  this  later  one,  by  being  at  the  bot- 
tom. Moreover,  the  presence  of  vice  at  the  latter  point  is  only  an  infer- 
ence from  its  perilous  position  on  the  incline.  Such  indirection  is  of 
course  foreign  to  Juvenal,  and  we  may  also  acquit  him  of  attributing  to 
vice  the  folly  of  attempting  to  stand  on  a  sheer  descent  with  the  inevi- 
table consequence  of  rolling  to  the  bottom. 

These  vagaries  of  interpretation  I  venture  to  think  result  from  the 

^  Class.  Rev.  VI,  124-5. 


92 


FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 


narrow  conception  of  stare  which  we  have  already  considered.  It  seems 
hardly  possible  that  stare  in  its  ordinary  sense  could  ever  be  made  to  fit 
appropriately  into  this  context.  If,  however,  it  be  taken  in  the  well- 
established  sense  of  'to  stop,'  'come  to  a  stand,'  difficulties  of  all  kinds 
vanish.  We  are  relieved  of  the  very  questionable  gnomic  perfect  which 
must  otherwise  be  assumed  for  stetit.  We  can  also  see  just  how  Juvenal 
conceived  the  climax  of  the  vice  of  his  day :  It  was  not  under  the  figure 
of  something  that  had  been  high,  or  that  was  lying  low;  vice  was  a 
creature  which  moved  forward  and  which  stayed  its  steps  only  on  the 
verge  of  the  abyss.  The  line  thus  repeats  in  striking  form  the  nil  erit 
ulterius  which  introduces  the  passage. ^- 

"I  find  this  view  is  also  taken  by  Weidner  in   his  edition  of    1889  and  by 
Housman  in  Class.  Rev.  XVII,  467,  but  neither  adduces  any  evidence. 


TRADITIONAL  BALLADS  FROM  ANDALUCIA 

AuRELio  Macedonio  Espinosa 

I 

CALIFORNIA  presents  a  unique  field  for  the  student  of  European 
Folk-lore.  The  currents  of  European  tradition  which  in  the 
future  will  mingle  and  make  more  and  more  difficult  the  task 
of  the  folk-lorist  are  at  present  easily  differentiated.  The  oldest  and 
strongest  current  is  the  Old  Spanish.  Central  and  Southern  California 
have  been  for  more  than  two  centuries  centers  of  Spanish  tradition. 
During  the  last  thirty  years  the  strongest  currents  of  European  tradi- 
tion have  been  the  Italian  and  the  Portuguese.  Recently  a  new  current 
of  Spanish  tradition  has  appeared.  Spanish  immigrants,  of  the  lower 
classes,  are  coming  to  California  in  large  numbers,  especially  from  Anda- 
lucia.  The  Spanish  folk-lorist  who  in  the  future  will  gather  Spanish 
folk-lore  in  California  must  distinguish  carefully  between  these  two 
currents  of  Spanish  tradition. 

During  the  last  five  years  I  have  begun  to  collect  California  Spanish 
Folk-lore  in  a  comprehensive  manner,  as  I  collected  New  Mexican 
Spanish  Folk-lore  years  before.  In  my  folk-lore  expeditions  my  principal 
purpose  has  been  to  collect  the  Old  Spanish  material  which  came  from 
Spain  and  Mexico  in  the  XVIIth  and  XVIIIth  centuries.  In  collecting 
this  material,  however,  I  have  not  neglected  to  collect  also  the  Spanish 
material  of  recent  date,  part  of  which  is  now  published. 

Perhaps  the  most  precious  material  which  the  Spanish  folk-lonst 
may  collect  concerns  the  Romancero,  or  the  traditional  ballads.  The 
ballad  tradition  seems  to  be  much  stronger  in  Spain  than  in  Spanish 
Cahfornia  or  New  Mexico.  My  present  collection  of  traditional  Spanish 
ballads  gathered  from  the  old  California  Spaniards  is  not  any  more 
abundant  than  that  collected  from  the  recent  immigrants  from  Southern 
Spain.  The  former  is,  of  course,  more  important  in  all  respects,  because 
it  represents  an  older  tradition  and  a  greater  diffusion,  and  like  the  New 
Mexican  collection  ^  reveals  the  strength  and  vitality  of  Spanish  ballad 
tradition  as  preserved  in  the  most  distant  and  separated  regions  of  the 
Old  Spanish  empire  beyond  the  seas. 

^^omancero  Nuevomejicano,  published  in  Revue  Hispanique,  April,   1915. 


94  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

II 

The  Andalusian  ballads  collected  in  California  follow.  They  are 
transcribed  as  near  as  possible  to  the  dictated  form,  using  the  Spanish 
alphabet.  Since  the  main  features  of  the  dialect  of  Andalucia  are  so 
well  known,  thanks  to  the  Quintero  brothers,  it  is  not  necessary  to  treat 
of  these  matters  here.  As  to  final  s,  my  own  observations  lead  me  to 
believe  that  it  is  usually  silent  before  a  consonant,  but  pronounced  before 
a  vowel.  Some  of  my  reciters,  however,  pronounced  A  or  a  distinct  final  j 
even  before  a  consonant.  In  the  question  of  juxtaposed  vowels  I  found 
striking  differences  between  the  Andalusian  and  other  Spanish  dialects 
known  to  me.  In  Andalusian  elision  and  contraction  seem  to  be  much 
more  common  than  in  the  New  Mexican  and  California  Spanish,  where 
synalepha  is  the  rule,  the  weaker  of  the  juxtaposed  vowels  changing  so 
completely  as  to  frequently  change  into  a  consonant,  e.  g.  sabi  uste 
<SABE  USTED,>    (Andalusian)   sah'  ute. 

Comparative  notes  are  given  in  III, 

I 
La  Aparicion. — A.  (Cordoba.) 
— iAnde  va  te,  cabayero?     ^Ande  va  triste  de  ti? 
— Voy  en  busca  de  mi  esposa,  qu  '  base  tiempo  que  la  vi. 
— Ya  tu  esposa  ya  sta  muerta ;    el  entierro  yo  lo  vi ; 
y  las  senas  que  yevaba  yo  te  las  puedo  desi. 
La  carit'  era  de  seda  y  los  dientes  de  marfi, 
y  un  panuelo  que  yevaba  er'  un  rico  carmesi. 
Al  entrar  por  el  palasio  una  sombra  negra  vi. 
— No  t'  asuste,  cabayero,  no  t'  asuste  tu  de  mi, 
que  soy  tu  querida  esposa,  que  te  vengo  a  despedi. 
— Si  eres  mi  querida  esposa,  echa  los  brasos  a  mi. 
— Los  brasos  que  yo  t'  echaba  a  la  tierra  se  los  di. 

2 
La  Aparicion. — B.     (Malaga.) 
— iDonde  va,  buen  cabayero?     ^Donde  vas  triste  de  ti? 
— Voy  en  busca  de  mi  esposa,  dias  ha  que  la  perdi. 
— Pues  tu  esposa  ya  sta  muerta ;    muerta  sta,  que  yo  la  vi. 
La  yevaban  entre  cuatro,  los  mas  ricos  de  Madri ; 
y  de  acompanamiento  yeva  mas  de  cuatrosientos  mil. 
El  velo  que  la  cubria  es  de  color  carmesi ; 
la  caja  en  que  la  yevaban  toda  era  de  marfi. 


TRADITIONAL   BALLADS    FROM    ANDALUCIA  —  ESPINOSA  95 

3 
Lucas  Barroso.    (Herrera,  Sevilla.) 

Alia  va  Lucas  Barroso,  vaquero  de  gayardia. 
— Suba,  suba  mi  ganado  por  esas  cuestas  arriba, 
que  si  algun  dano  1'  hisiere  su  amo  lo  pagaria, 
con  el  me  jo  beserrito  qu'  hubiera  'n  la  vaqueria, 
hi  jo  del  toro  Pintado  y  la  vaca  Gerardiya. 
Dios  la  crio  tan  ligera,  que  volab'  y  no  corria. 

Por  aqueyos  atajos  de  Ronda 
Los  vaqueros  hasen  jondas, 
cuando  suben  una  cuesta. 
Seviya  no  tiene  cuestas, 
que  todit'  es  tierra  yana. 
Buena  fruta  es  la  mansana; 
nadie  la  coma  con  asco. 
Una  vieja  la  comio, 
y  de  asco  revento. 

4 
Altamar.     (Herrera,  Sevilla.) 

El  rey  moro  tenia  un  hi  jo  que  Paquito  se  yamaba. 

Navegando  en  artas  mares  se  'namoro  de  su  hermana. 

Como  no  podia  ser,  cayo  malito  'n  la  cama, 

con  una  calenturita,  qu'  a  Dios  le  entriega  su  arma. 

Subio  '1  padre  a  visitale,— iQue  tienes,  hijo  del  arma? 

—Padre,  una  calenturita,  que  a  Dios  le  entriego  '1  arma. 

—iQuieres  que  te  mat'  un  ave,  d'  esa  que  se  crian  en  casa. 

—Padre,  matemel'  ute;    que  me  lo  suba  mi  hermana. 

Como  era  'n  el  verano  se  lo  subio  'n  naguas  blancas. 

Cuando  la  vio  de  subi,  se  levanta  de  la  cama; 

1'  agarro  por  la  sintura,  la  tersio  sobre  su  cama. 

— Der  sielo  bajo  un  castigo,  qu'  he  deshonrado  a  mi  hermana, 
un  clavel  disiplinado  y  una  rosita  temprana. 

5 
Elena.— A.    (Viznar,  Granada.) 

Estaba  una  nina  bordando  corbatas, 
agujas  de  oro  y  dedal  de  plata. 


o6  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

Yego  un  cabayero  buscando  posada. 

— Si  mi  madre  quiere  yo  le  dare  'ntrada. 

Le  puso  la  mesa  en  medio  la  sala, 

cuchios  de  ore,  cubiertos  de  plata. 

Le  puso  la  cama  en  el  cuartu  e  la  sala, 

colchone  de  hilo,  sabana  d'  Holanda. 

A  la  media  noche  jue  y  se  levanto ; 

de  las  tres  qu'  habia  Elena  cogio. 

Se  monta  (a)   cabayo  y  se  la  yevo, 

y  en  el  mismo  monte,  ayi  la  dejo. 

A  los  veinte  afios  por  ayi  paso; 

tiro  d'  ima  rama  y  Elena  salio. 


Elena. — B.     (Herrera,  Sevilla.) 

Estab"  una  nina  bordando  corbata, 
aguja  de  oro  y  dedal  de  plata. 
Paso  un  cabayero  pidiendo  posada. 
— Si  mi  madre  quiere,  yo  de  buena  gana. 
Le  pus'  una  mesa  en  medio  una  sala, 
mantele  de  hilo,  cubierto  de  plata. 
Le  pus'  una  cama  en  medio  una  sala, 
colchone  de  hilo,  sabana  di  Holanda. 

7 
Gerineldo.     (Antequera,  Malaga.) 

— Gerineldo,  Gerineldo,  Gerineldito  puHdo, 

i  quien  te  piyara  sta  noche  tres  horas  a  mi  albedrio ! 

— Como  soy  vuestro  criado,  sefiora,  burlais  commigo. 

— No  me  burlo,  Gerineldo,  que  de  vera  te  lo  digo ; 

qu'  a  la  die  s'  acueta  '1  rey,  y  a  las  onse  ta  dormido. 

Eso  de  las  onse  y  media  el  rey  pide  su  vestido ; 

no  'ncontro  quien  se  lo  diera,  y  al  minuto  s'  ha  vestido. 

Pidio  la  'spada  de  oro,  y  entre  los  dos  1'  ha  metido. 

Se  levanta  la  prinsesa  tres  horas  del  sol  salido. 

— Gerineldo,  Gerineldo,  mira  que  semo  perdido, 

que  la  'spada  de  mi  padre  de  testigo  1'  ha  servido. 

— iPor  donde  m'  ire  yo  ora,  para  no  ser  conosido? 


TRADITIONAL   BALLADS    FROM    ANDALUCIA  —  ESPINOSA  97 

M'  ire  per  esos  jardines,  cogiendo  rosas  y  linos. 

El  rey,  como  lo  sabia,  se  le  hiso  apersebido. 

— iOnde  vas  tu,  Gerineldo,  tan  palido  y  descolorido? 

— Vengo  del  jardin  del  rey,  de  coger  rosas  y  lirios. 

—No  lo  niegues,  Gerineldo ;    con  la  prinses'  has  dormido. 

— Tengo  '1  testamento  jecho  con  escrito  de  mi  estreya; 

mujer  qu'  ha  sido  mi  dama  no  m'  he  de  casar  con  eya. 

8 

Don  Pedro.     (Herrera,  Sevilla.) 

Ya  viene  Don  Pedro  de  la  guerra  herido; 

y  viene  con  ansia  por  ver  a  su  hijo. 

— Curemi  ute,  madre,  'ta(s)   sincu  heridas, 

que  voy  a  la  sala  a  ver  la  parida. 

— iComo  ta,  Teresa  de  tu  fell  parto? 

— Yo  to  bien,  Don  Pedro,  si  no  vienes  malo. 

Arrimam'  el  nifio,  que  le  di  un  abraso, 

por  si  acaso  muero,  no  mueru  a  su  lado. 
A  lo  cuarenta  paso  Don  Pedro  'spiro ; 

se  quedaron  los  corasone  traspasado  de  dolor. 
Digam'  uste,  mi  suegra,  como  buen'  amiga, 

ique  ruido  es  ese  qu'  hay  en  la  cosina? 

— Yo  te  dire,  mi  nuera,  como  grand'  amiga, 

el  juegu  e  los  naipe,  como  stas  parida. 

Ya  compUo  Teresa  lo  cuarenta  dia ; 

s'  etaba  peinando  para  ir  a  misa. 

—Digam'  ute,  mi  suegra,  como  grand'  amiga, 

ique  vetido  me  pongo  para  ir  a  misa? 

—El  negro,  mi  nuera,  el  negro  mi  vida ; 

pontelo  de  luto,  que  te  combenia. 

A  1'  entrada  por  I'  iglesia  la  gente  desia : 

— iQue  viuda  tarn  beya  la  resien  parida! 

—Digam'  ute,  mi  suegra,  como  grand'  amiga, 

aqueya  rasone  iporque  la(s)   desian? 

Si  Don  Pedru  ha  muerto,  yo  no  lo  sabia. 

Also  la  cortina  en  grande  silensio; 
agarro  un  cuchiyo,  se  corto  '1  pecueso. 
Repiquen  campana  con  mu  grande  pena, 
porque  ya  s'  han  muerto  Don  Pedru  y  Teresa. 


^8  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

9 

Delgadina.    (Herrera,  Sevilla.) 
El  rey  moro  tenia  tres  hijas,  mah  bonita  que  la  plata, 
y  la  mail  bonita  d'  eya  Delgadina  se  yamaba. 
Estand'  un  dia  comiendo  su  padre  la  retrataba. 
— Padre,  ^que  me  mir'  ute?     ique  tengo  yo  'n  eta  cara? 
— Que  tu  ha  de  se  mi  muje,  madrastra  de  tus  hermanas. 
— No  lo  permitan  lo  sielo,  ni  la  reina  soberana, 
de  qu'  ote  sea  mi  padre  y  yo  sea  su  enamorada. 
— Vengan  todo  mi  criado  a  Delgadina  'nserrala. 
Si  pidiere  de  come  dale  de  carne  salada ; 
si  pidiere  de  bebe  dale  sumo  de  retama. 
Al  otro  dia  siguiente  s'  asomo  por  la  ventana ; 
ha  vitu  a  su  hermosa  hermana  sentada  'n  siya  de  plata. 
— Hermana,  por  se  mi  hermana,  ^me  dier'  una  taya  di  agua? 
El  coraso  me  se  seca  y  la  vida  me  se  acaba. 
— Yo  te  la  diera,  mi  bien,  yo  te  la  diera,  mi  arma ; 
pero  si  padre  s'  entera  a  las  do  noh  castigaba. 
Entro  Delgadina  p'  adentro,  que  yorando  reventaba; 
con  lagrima  de  sus  ojo  toda  la  sala  regaba; 
con  la  trensa  de  su  pelo  toda  la  sala  crusaba. 
Al  otro  dia  siguiente  s'  asomo  por  la  ventana; 
ha  vitu  a  su  hermosa  madre  sentada  'n  siya  de  plata. 
— Madre,  por  se  te  mi  madre,    ^me  diera'  una  taya  di  agua? 
El  coraso  me  se  seca  y  la  vida  me  se  acaba. 
— Yo  te  la  diera,  mi  bien,  yo  te  la  diera,  mi  arma; 
pero  si  padre  s'  entera  a  lah  dos  nos  enserrara. 
Entro  Delgadina  p'  adentro,  que  yorando  reventaba; 
con  lagrima  de  sus  ojo  toda  la  sala  regaba; 
con  la  trensa  de  su  pelo  toda  la  sala  crusaba. 
Al  otro  dia  siguiente  s'  asomo  por  la  ventana; 
ha  vitu  a  su  hermoso  padre  sentado  'n  siya  de  plata. 

Padre,  por  se  te  mi  padre,  ^me  dier'  una  taya  di  agua? 

que  '1  coraso  me  se  seca  y  la  vida  me  se  acaba. 

Vengan  loh  reyes  d'  oriente  a  Delgadina  dar  agua; 

el  que  yegare  primero  con  Delgadina  se  casa. 

Por  mucho  que  Hgeraron,  Delgadina  staba  muerta. 

A  la  cabesera  tiene  una  fuente  di  agua  clara, 

y  a  loh  pies  tiene  a  la  reina  hasiendole  la  mortaja. 

La  campana  de  la  gloria  pa  Delgadina  tocaban ; 

la  campana  del  infiemo  pa  la  madre  y  pa  1'  hermana. 


TRADITIONAL    BALLADS    FROM    ANDALUCIA  —  ESPINOSA  99 


ID 


Carmela.     ( Herrera,  Sevilla.) 
Carmela  se  paseaba  per  una  sal'  adelante, 
con  los  dolore  de  parto,  qii'  el  corason  se  le  parte. 
— iOuien  se  piyar'  una  cama  en  medio  d'  aqueyos  vayes! 
Laliiegra  que  1'  ecuchaba :— Corre,  vete  ca  tu  madre. 
Si  viene  Pedru  a  la  noche,  yo  le  pondre  de  sena; 
yo  le  dare  ropa  limpia  si  se  quiere  demuda. 
Llego  Pedru  a  media  noche.— Mi  Carmela,  idond'  eta? 
— Sientate,  hijo  querido,  que  te  tengo  de  conta. 
Tu  Carmel'  es  una  tuna,  que  m'  ha  querido  pega. 
Ese  hijo  que  tu  tiene  sabe  Dios  de  quien  sera. 
Monta  Pedru  en  su  cabayo,  y  su  trabuco  detra. 
Al  regolve  d'  una  'squina  s'  ha  'ncontradu  a  su  comadre. 
— Buena  tarde  tenga,  Pedro,  ya  tenemos  un  infante ; 

del  infante  gosaremo.  a  Carmela  Dios  la  salve. 

—i Carmela  levanta  ya?    — ^Como  quiere  que  levante? 

Con  dos  hora  de  parida  ihay  muje  que  se  levante? 

L'  agarraba  por  un  braso.  se  la  monto  por  delante. 

Anduvieron  siete  leguas  uno  y  otro,  sin  hablarse. 

—Carmela,  iporque  no  m'  habla?— ^Como  quiere  que  yo  hable, 

si  lo  pecho  der  cabayo  van  regado  de  mi  sangre? 

— Al  regolve  d'  esa  'squina  tengo  intension  de  matarte. 

Un  tiro  ha  sonado,  ha  sonado  'n  esa  parte. 

i -Quien  s'  ha  muerto?    ^  quien  s'  ha  muerto?  -La  prmsesa  d 
Olivare, 

responde  un  niiio  chiquito,  chiquitito  de  panale, 

—por  un  farso  testimonio  que  le  levanto  su  madre. 

II 

Camino  de  Belen.     (Almeria.) 
Por  aquel  portiyo  abierto,  nunca  lo  vide  serrado, 
paso  la  Virgen  Maria,  vestida  de  Colorado. 
El  vestido  que  yevaba  siempre  lo  vide  manchado, 
que  lo  mancho  Jesucristo  con  sangre  de  su  costado. 
Caminemos.  caminemos,  caminemos  pa  Belen. 
Como  el  camino  es  tan  largo,  pidio  '1  nino  de  beber. 
No  pidas  agua,  mi  vida,  no  bebas  agua,  mi  bien, 
que  los  rios  corren  turbios  y  los  arroyos  tambien. 


lOO  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

Caminaron  adelante;    pidio  '1  nifio  de  comer. 

— En  las  cuestas  de  San  Diego  hay  un  rico  naranjel, 

que  lo  guarda  un  buen  sieguito,  siego  que  ni  gota  ve. 

— Dame,  siego,  una  naranja  para  '1  nifio  'ntretener. 

— Entre  uste,  sefiora  y  coja  las  que  sea  de  menester. 

Cantimas  cogia  la  Virgen,  mas  echaba  '1  naranjel. 

La  Virgen,  tan  cortesana,  no  cogio  nomas  de  tres; 

una  le  dio  a  su  nino,  y  otra  le  dio  a  San  Jose, 

y  otra  dejo  'n  su  falda  para  la  Virgen  goler. 

El  siego  que  nunca  vido  or'  ha  comensado  a  ver. 

iQuien  er'  aqueya  sefiora  que  le  habia  hecho  tanto  bien? 

Era  la  Virgen  Maria,  que  caminaba  pa  Belen. 

12 

La  Virgen  y  el  Nifio  Perdido.  (Almeria.) 
La  Virgen  vistio  a  su  nifio  con  una  preciosa  tela, 
para  yevarlo  a  Belen  a  selebrar  una  fiesta. 

Se  le  perdio  'n  el  camino 

Sus  ojos  eran  dos  fuentes  que  regaban  las  arenas. 

S'  encontro  con  dos  mositos,  s'  encontro  con  dos  donseyas ; 

les  pregunto  si  habian  visto  al  Redentor  de  la  tierra. 

— De  uste  las  seiias,  sefiora, 

Puede  ser  que  s'  haya  visto,  o  puede  ser  que  se  vea. 
— Lleva  sapatitos  blancos  y  unas  moraditas  medias, 
una  tunica  encarnada,  bordada  con  seda  negra, 
que  la  borde  con  mis  manos,  esta  santa  cuarentena. 
— Ese  nifio,  si  sefiora,  anoche  'stuvo  en  mi  puerta ; 
pidio  limosna  y  le  di,  posada  porque  quisiera. 
Le  hise  una  rica  cama,  con  almuadas  de  seda. 
El  nino,  tan  cortesano,  no  quiso  acostarse  'n  eya ; 
en  el  rincon  mas  escuro  qu'  en  aqueya  casa  hubiera. 
Otro  dia  por  la  mafiana  decia  d'  esta  manera: — 
Quedaos  con  Dios,  mositos,  quedaos  con  Dios,  donseyas. 
i  Que  mi  padre  os  de  buen  pago  en  aqueya  gloria  eterna ! 

13 
El  Nifio  Perdido.     (Herrera,  Sevilla.) 
— Madre,  a  la  puerta  hay  un  nifio  mas  hermoso  qu'  el  sol  bello. 
Yo  digo  que  tenga  frio  porque  viene  medio  en  cueros. 
— Pues,  dile  que  entre;    se  calentara 


TRADITIONAL    BALLADS    FROM    ANDALUCIA ESPINOSA  lOI 

porque  nesta  tierra  ya  no  hay  carida; 

porque  la  qu'  habia  s'  ha  'cabado  ya. 

Entro  '1  nino,  se  sento;    s'  hiso  que  se  calentaba. 

Le  pregunto  la  patrona:—  iDe  que  tierra?  ^de  que  patria? 

— Mi  padre  del  sielo,  mi  madre  tambien ; 

yo  baj'  a  la  tierra  para  padeser. 

Hasle  la  cama   (a)   este  nino  en  la  'Icoba  y  con  primor, 

No  me  r  hag'  uste  senora,  que  mi  cama  es  un  rincon, 

que  mi  cama  es  el  suelo  desde  que  nasi; 

y  hasta  que  me  muera  ha  de  ser  asi. 

Ante  que  fuera  de  dia  el  nino  se  levanto. 

Le  dijo  a  la  patronsita : — Uste  quedara  con  Dios. 

Con  Dios,  patronsita,  la  paga  vendra; 

si  no  esta  noche,  por  la  madruga. 

Ante  que  fuera  de  dia  ya  'taba  el  nino  en  la  puerta, 

con  una  fanega  de  trigo  y  en  la  mano  una  peseta. 

— Tom'  uste,  patrona,  tom'  uste,  mujer, 

torn'  uste  la  paga  del  anocheser. 


Ill 

Inasmuch  as  I  have  elsewhere  studied  in  a  comparative  way  some  of 
the  ballads  mentioned  below,  I  content  myself  with  general  references  in 
the  notes  to  those  ballads.=^  Owing  to  lack  of  space  I  give  complete  biblio- 
graphical data  only  in  the  case  of  recent  works,  and  those  not  well  known. 

1,2.  These  are  fragmentary  versions  of  a  well  known  traditional 
ballad,  the  first  versions  of  which  appear  in  pliegos  sueltos,  and  date 
from  the  sixteenth  century,  if  not  earlier.  See  Romancero  Nuevo- 
mejicano,  Nos.  20,  21,  22 ;  Menendez  y  Pelayo,  Tratado  de  los  Romances 
Viejos,  II.  533-534,  and  Antalogia,  X,  53  (Asturian),  24  (Andalusian)  ; 
Menendez  Pidal,  Los  Romances  Tradicionales  en  America  (Cultura  Es- 
panola,  1906),  No.  17;  Mila  y  Fontanals,  Romancerillo,  227;  Juan  Men- 
endez Pidal,  Poesia  Popular,  No.  73 ;  Narciso  Alonzo  Cortez,  Romances 
Populares  de  Castilla  (Valladolid,  1906),  32-34;  Braga,  Romanceiro 
Geral  Portugues  (3d  Ed.,  1906),  36-78.  In  the  Portuguese  versions  the 
old  Spanish  ballad  is  confused  and  mixed  with  the  ballad  Bernal  Frances. 

MrTmy  Romancero  Nuevomejicano,  prepared  in  1913,  but  published  in  ipiS- 
Some  of  my  notes  need  revision  and  amplification  in  view  of  the  important  American 
Spanish  collections  published  in  the  meantime.  Additional  remarks  are  also  given 
in  my  review  of  the  work  of  Vicuna  Cifuentes,  mentioned  below. 


S/JsITA  EAFJ^ARA  STATE  COLLEGE  LIBRAk 


I02  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

The  Cuban  version  of  our  ballad  is  not  a  traditional  version,  but  of  very 
recent  date.  See  Chacon  y  Calvo,  Romances  Tradicionales  en  Cuba 
(Habana,  1914),  97-100.  It  is  evident  that  the  Castilian  versions  are 
the  oldest,  as  Vicuna  Cifuentes  states  in  his  notes  to  the  ballad  of  La 
Adultcra  (Julio  Vicuna  Cifuentes,  Romances  Populares  y  Vulgares,  reco- 
gidos  de  la  tradicion  oral  chilena  (Santiago,  1912),  100.'  The  best  version 
is  the  Asturian.  The  two  Andalusian  versions  now  published  are 
directly  connected  with  the  Andalusian  version  24,  cited  above.  See  also 
Menendez  Pidal,  Cat.  del  Romancero,  Jud-Esp.,  56,  and  Duran,  Roman- 
cero  General,  292. 

3.  The  first  version  of  this  ballad  was  collected  by  Rodriguez  Marin 
in  Osuna  (Andalucia)  and  published  by  Menendez  y  Pelayo,  Antologia, 
X,  22.  Our  present  Sevillan  version  is  in  all  respects  the  same  version, 
with  the  exception  of  the  last  verses,  which,  though  somewhat  suspicious, 
seem  to  belong  to  a  traditional  version.  This  evidence  is  derived  largely 
from  the  fact  that  the  Chile  versions  have  similar  verses,  although  with 
a  change  of  assonance.  See  Vicuna  Cifuentes,  Romances,  Populares  y 
Vulgar es,  Nos.  55-59,  and  my  review,  op.  cit.,  54.  Cifuentes  gives  five 
versions,  the  first  one  being  the  best  and  longest  yet  found.  It  is  in 
this  version  that  the  last  verses  of  the  Sevillan  version  now  published 
appear,  although  in  somewhat  different  language.  These  are  totally  lack- 
ing in  the  Osuna  version. 

4.  The  first  known  Spanish  version  of  this  ballad  of  Biblical  tradi- 
tion, was  the  Osuna  version  of  Rodriguez  Marin,  published  in  the  Boletin 
Folklorico  Espanol,  and  reprinted  by  Menendez  y  Pelayo,  Antologia,  X, 
196-197.  While  the  present  Sevillan  version  is  essentially  the  same  ballad, 
the  little  differences  in  language  are  extremely  interesting  and  valuable 
for  the  reconstruction  of  the  original  version.  In  some  cases  the  verses 
are  decidedly  different.  The  substitution  of  the  name  Paquito  (in  the 
Seville  version)  and  Taquino  (in  the  other)  are  worthy  of  note.  Taquino 
for  Amon  is  the  first  substitution.  Paquito  was  a  later  substitution.  See 
also  the  note  of  Menendez  y  Pelayo. 

Cortes,  Romances  Poptdares  de  Castillo,  109-111,  gives  three  long 
and  interesting  versions  of  the  same  ballad,  but  the  language  does  not 
reveal  great  interest.  All  three  versions  seem  to  me  to  be  new  versions, 
with  the  traditional  elements  fused  with  more  recent  additions. 

The  Jewish  version  published  by  Menendez  Pidal  in  his  Catdlogo  del 


'This  welcome  .-Xmerican  Spanish  collection  of  Traditional  Spanish  ballads 
is  the  best  collection  of  popular  Spanish  ballads  made  within  recent  years.  See  my 
review  in  Bulletin  dc  Dialectologie  Romane,  V,  49-54- 


TRADITIONAL    BALLADS    KKOM    ANDALUCIA ESPINOSA  IO3 

Romancero   Judio-Espanol,   No.    2)7^   preserves   the    Biblical   names   un- 
changed. 

5,  6.  In  AntoloiTia,  X,  210,  Menendez  y  Pelayo  published  the  first 
Spanish  version  of  this  ballad,  which  he  supposed  to  be  of  Portuguese 
origin.  His  words  follow:  "Es  uno  de  los  pocos  romances  cuyo  origen 
portugues  es  indudable,  puesto  que  se  refiere  a  la  patrona  de  Santaren, 
cuya  leyenda,  tomada  de  un  antiguo  Breviario  de  fivora,  puede  leerse  en 
el  tomo  XIV  de  la  Espaiia  Sagrada  (389-391).  En  las  provincias  de 
lengua  castellana  no  parece  que  esta  muy  difundida:  yo  solamente  co- 
nozco  esta  version  leonesa."  Since  these  lines  were  written  we  know  much 
more  about  this  ballad.  There  are  two  forms  of  the  same  ballad,  one  in 
octosyllabic  verses  and  the  other  in  six-syllable  verses.  The  Leonese 
version  of  the  Antologia,  as  w-ell  as  the  Castilian  version  of  Cortes, 
Romances  Populares  de  Castilla,  108,  are  in  octosyllabic  verses  and  belong 
to  a  distinct  class  by  themselves.  The  version  of  Cortes  is  by  far  the 
best.  Menendez  y  Pelayo  gives  references  to  eight  Portuguese  versions, 
and  these  also  divide  themselves  into  the  two  classes  above  mentioned. 
In  each  class  the  same  assonance  prevails,  in  most  cases. 

Our  Andalusian  versions  now  published,  the  one  from  Granada  and 
the  other  from  Sevilla,  belong  with  the  Castilian  version  from  Uruguay, 
published  by  Menendez  Pidal,  Los  Rom.  Trad,  en  America,  No.  27,  and 
the  various  Portuguese  and  Galician  versions  published  by  Braga,  Silvio 
Romero  (see  Menendez  y  Pelayo),  Mila  y  Fontanals,  Romania,  VI,  52, 
etc.  These  are  in  six-syllable  verses,  or  twelve  if  we  consider  the  verses 
as  long  verses  of  two  hemistiches.  The  Spanish  versions  are  in  many 
respects  superior  to  the  Portuguese  versions.  There  is  great  similarity, 
however,  and  their  primary  source  may  be  Portuguese,  as  Menendez  y 
Pelayo  supposes.  To  me,  this  supposition  is  by  no  means  conclusive.  The 
fact  that  the  legend  is  of  Portuguese  origin  is  not  evidence  that  any  ballad 
composed  after  the  legend  became  known  is  Portuguese ;  and  the  two 
present  Spanish  versions  from  Andalucia,  together  with  the  Uruguay 
version,  show  that  Spanish  tradition  has  a  very  old  ballad  in  the  shorter 
meter,  which  does  not  show  any  signs  of  Portuguese  origin.  The  fact 
that  the  Portuguese  versions  have  been  known  before  the  Spanish  ver- 
sions, has  made  some  scholars  believe  that  these  were  ballads  of  purely 
Portuguese  origin.  I  do  not  even  admit  that  the  shorter  meter  is  only  a 
Galician  or  Asturian  ballad  meter. 

7.  The  legend  of  Gerineldo  and  the  various  Spanish  ballads  that  treat 
of  it  have  received  the  attention  of  various  scholars.  In  Spanish  ballad 
tradition  the  legend  is  very  common,  although  in  some  of  the  best  and 


I04  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

most  extensive  collections  recently  made  the  ballad  of  Gerineldo  is  con- 
spicuously missing;  for  example,  in  the  excellent  collection  of  Chile  by 
Vicuiia  Cifuentes.*  Generally  speaking,  however,  the  ballad  of  Gerineldo 
is  very  common  in  modern  tradition.  For  a  good  classification  and  study 
of  all  the  Gerineldo  ballads  known  and  published  up  to  1891,  see  especially 
Hans  Otto,  La  Tradition  d'  Eginhard  et  Emma  dans  la  poesie  romanesca 
de  la  Peninsule  Hispanique,  in  Modern  Language  Notes,  Dec.  1892.  The 
diffusion  and  development  of  the  legend  in  Spain  are  studied  by  Menen- 
dez  y  Pelayo,  Tratado  de  los  Romances  Viejos,  II,  404-406.  In  addition 
see,  for  further  study  and  more  versions,  Menendez  Pidal,  Cat.  del 
Romancero  Jud-Esp.,  No.  loi  ;  Duran  (old  versions),  Romancero  Gene- 
ral, 320,  321 ;  Juan  Menendez  Pidal,  Poesia  Popular,  3,  4,  5 ;  Braga, 
I,  177,  etc. ;  Cortes,  Romances  Pop.  de  Castilla,  5-7 ;  A.  Rodrigo  de 
Azevedo,  Romanceiro  do  Archipelago  de  Madeira  (Funchal,  1880),  63; 
Mila  y  Fontanals,  Romancerillo,  269 ;  Antonio  Castro  Leal,  Cuba  Con- 
tempordnea,  1914,  239-242;  and  lastly,  Romancero  Nuevomejicano,  Nos. 
7,  8,  9,  and  Primavera,  161,  161  a. 

Our  present  version  from  Malaga  is  incomplete.  The  Asturian  and 
Andalusian  versions  given  by  Menendez  y  Pelayo,  Antologia,  X,  32-35 
and  161-164,  are  better  preserved.  The  last  two  verses  of  the  present 
Malaga  version,  with  a  change  of  assonance,  seem  to  be  a  late  addition. 
They  do  not  belong  to  the  original  ballad,  and  are  probably  from  another 
ballad.  The  same  idea,  but  in  different  words  and  assonance,  is  found  in 
other  older  ballads,  for  example  Tenderina,  Antologia,  X,  47: 

— Con  esta  espada  me  maten,  con  esta  que  al  lado  traigo, 
si  mujer  que  me  dio  el  cuerpo  nunca  con  ella  me  caso. 

In  Primavera,  139,  we  have  even  the  same  assonance: 

— No  quiero  hacer,  caballeros,  para  mi  cosa  tan  fea, 
en  tomar  yo  por  mujer  la  que  tuve  por  manceba. 

8.  This  is  a  complete  and  important  version  of  a  well  known  Spanish 
ballad  which  is  found  in  Spain  in  two  characteristic  forms,  the  twelve 
and  sixteen-syllable  meters.  The  present  version  is  almost  identical  with 
the  one  from  Extremadura  published  in  Antologia,  X,  177-178.  Both 
are  variants  of  the  same  ballad.    The  Asturian  versions  of  Antologia,  X, 

*  See  my  review,  op.  cit.,  p.  52.  In  Introduccion,  p.  xxv,  however,  Vicuna 
Cifuentes  speaks  of  a  lost  fragment  of  this  ballad. 


TRADITIONAL    BALLADS    FROM    ANDALUCIA ESPINOSA  IO5 

IIO-II2,  Juan  Menendez  Pidal,  Poesia  Popular,  47  and  48,  Cortes, 
Romances  Populares  de  Castilla,  80-81,  are  only  indirectly  related. 

These  ballads  are  Spanish  versions  of  the  well  known  legend  of  Le 
Roi  Renaud,  celebrated  in  one  of  the  most  popular  French  chansons.  The 
Spanish  ballads  which  continue  in  Spain  this  charming  legend,  together 
with  various  Portuguese,  Catalonian  and  even  Italian  songs  or  ballads, 
are  directly  connected  and  related  with  the  French  chanson,  which  was 
the  source  of  their  inspiration ;  and  the  French  version  of  the  story  is  in 
turn  inspired  in  an  Armorican  gwerz.  This  last  form  of  the  legend  is 
derived  from  Scandinavian  sources  which  find  their  origin  in  old  Ger- 
manic traditions.^ 

The  Spanish  ballads,  and  in  particular  the  Andalusian  versions,  pre- 
serve practically  the  complete  legend.  The  last  verse  of  the  version  from 
Extremadura  reminds  one  of  the  beautiful  and  identical  verse  from  the 
Chanson  de  Roland.    Both  follow  : 

— Si  don  Pedro  es  muerto,         no  es  razon  (que)   yo  viva. 
Quant  tu  ies  morz         dulur  est  que  jo  vif.  2030 

9.  This  is  the  most  popular  ballad  of  Spanish  tradition.  The  present 
version  is  essentially  the  same  as  the  Andalusian  versions  pubhshed  by 
Menendez  y  Pelayo,  and  mentioned  below.  The  only  point  worthy  of 
mention  here  is  the  fact  that  the  closing  verses  call  the  mother  and  sister 
to  judgment  and  leave  the  father  unpunished. 

The  ballad  of  Delgadina  reproduces  a  legend  which  has  a  most  com- 
plicated and  extensive  history.  There  are  current  in  European  tradition 
hundreds  of  tales  and  songs  that  treat  of  one  or  another  form  of  the 
legend;  and  indeed  some  of  the  apparently  connected  versions  of  the 
legend  or  legends  may  have  no  connection  whatever.  The  literature  on  the 
subject  is  so  extensive  that  it  is  impossible  to  give  even  a  brief  summary 
of  the  most  characteristic  forms  of  the  legend.  In  the  Spanish  ballads  the 
story  is  usually  the  account  of  a  king  who  falls  in  love  with  his  daughter, 
and  her  subsequent  imprisonment  and  death.  Hundreds  of  Spanish, 
Portuguese  and  Catalonian  versions  of  the  ballad  have  been  found. 
The  majority  of  the  versions  found  thus  far,  and  a  discussion  of  these 
with  comparative  notes,  are  found  in  the  following  publications :  Menen- 
dez y  Pelayo,  Antologia,  X,  126-131  and  167-176;  Juan  Menendez  Pidal, 
Poesia  Popular,  74,  75  and  76 ;  Menendez  Pidal,  Los  Rom.  Trad,  en 
Amer.,  29;    and  Cat.  del  Romancero  Jud-Esp.,  98  and  99;    Ciro  Bayo, 

^e    Menendez   y    Pelayo,    Antologia,   X,    112-115;     G.    Doncieux.    Romania, 
XXIX,  219-256. 


I06  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

Romancenllo  del  Plata  (Madrid,  1913).  28;  Cortes,  Romances  Pop.  de 
Castilla,  29-30;  Chacon  y  Calvo.  Romances  Tradicionales  en  Cuba,  81-88; 
Carolina  Poncet,  El  Romance  en  Cuba,  254-260  and  278-282 ;  Rodrigues 
de  Azevedo,  Romanceiro  do  Archipelai!:o  da  Madeira,  106-112;  Mila 
y  Fontanals,  Romanccrillo  Catalan,  29;  Almeida  Garrett,  Romanceiro, 
(Lisboa,  1904),  I,  106;  Braga,  Romanceiro  Geral,  I,  447-480;  Julio 
Vicuna  Cifuentes,  Romances  Populares  y  Vulgares,  27-44;  Romancero 
Neuvomejicano,  Nos.  1-6  and  page  16. 

For  more  general  studies  of  the  legends  related  to  the  ballad  of  Del- 
gadina,  see  especially  Menendez  y  Pelayo,  Tratado  de  los  Romances 
Viejos,  II,  513-516;  Vicufia  Cifuentes,  cited  above;  Chacon  y  Calvo, 
cited  above;  Braga,  Romanceiro  Geral,  III,  453-464;  Hermann  Suchier, 
Oeiivres  poetiques  de  Philippe  de  Remi  Sire  de  Beaumanoir,  (Paris, 
1884),  introduction,  23-96;  and  lastly,  the  important  work  of  Rodolfo 
Lenz,  Un  Grupo  de  Consejas  Chilenas,  (Anales,  1912),  especially  pages 

96-150. 

10.  This  ballad  is  not  found  in  the  old  collections,  but  it  must  be  very 
old,  since  it  is  found  in  the  modern  tradition  of  nearly  all  Spanish  coun- 
tries. The  present  version  is  one  of  the  best,  and  is  essentially  the  same 
version  as  the  Andalusian  version  of  Rodriguez  Marin,  published  in 
Antologia,  X,  191.  The  Asturian  versions  given  on  pages  93-97  of  this 
publication  treat  of  the  same  subject,  but  the  form  of  the  ballad  is  en- 
tirely different.  All  these  ballads  are  varying  forms  of  the  tale  of  the 
persecuted  uife  and  wicked  mother-in-law.  For  a  brief  discussion  of 
the  relation  and  diffusion  of  the  various  Spanish  and  Portuguese  ballads 
which  treat  of  this  theme,  see  Menendez  y  Pelayo,  Antologia,  X,  97-98, 
and  Tratado  de  los  Romances  Viejos,  II,  513;   Braga,  Romanceiro  Geral, 

1, 556-584.  HI,  473-478. 

For  the  additional  versions  of  Spain,  Portugal  and  Catalonia,  see 
especially  the  following  works :  J.  Menendez  Pidal,  Poesia  Popular,  No. 
36;  Mila  y  Fontanals,  Romancerillo,  243;  Cortes,  Rom.  Pop.  de  Castilla, 
37-43  (three  long  and  complete  versions)  ;  Rodriguez  de  Azevedo, 
Romanceiro  do  Archipelago  de  Madeira,  186-190;  Antologia,  X,  221,  226, 
227,  313  (Jewish  Version);  Almeida  Garrett,  Romanceiro,  III,  40-48; 
Carolina  Michaelis  in  Revista  Lusitana,  vols.  VIII,  IX.  Strangely 
enough  this  ballad  is  not  found  in  any  of  the  American  Spanish  collec- 
tions, although  it  is  one  of  the  most  popular  in  Spain. 

II.  The  best  version  thus  far  known  of  this  beautiful  ballad  was 
the  Asturian  version  of  J.  Menendez  Pidal,  Poesia  Popular,  No.  90.  The 
next  best  was  the  almost  identical  Andalusian  version  of  Fernan  Caballero, 


TRADITIONAL    BALLADS    FROM    ANDALUCIA  —  ESPINOSA  IO7 

Cuentos  y  Poesias  Pop.,  274.  Our  present  Andalusian  version  from 
Almeria  is  longer  and  in  all  respects  superior  to  the  others  thus  far 
known,  and  is  therefore  an  important  find.  The  first  verses  are  evidently 
traditional  and  belong  to  the  original  version,  since  these  are  preserved 
in  the  fragmentary  version  from  Cuba,  published  by  Carolina  Poncet,  op. 
cit,  296,  and  in  the  fragmentary  verses  mentioned  by  Vicuna  Cifuentes ; 
see  below.  Vicuiia  Cifuentes,  Romances  Populares  y  Vulgares,  161-165, 
gives  five  versions  from  Chile,  the  first  two  of  which  are  well  preserved. 
Fragmentary  versions  are  also  found  in  Menendez  y  Pelayo,  Antologia, 
X,  216-243;  Menendez  Pidal,  Los  Rom.  Trad,  en  America,  No.  10; 
Rodriguez  Marin,  Cantos  Populares  Esp.,  IV,  165:  Mila  y  Fontanals, 
Romancerillo,  3;  Cortes,  Rom.  Pop.  de  Castilla,  121-122.  See  also  the 
notes  of  Vicuna  Cifuentes,  165-168. 

12.  This  ballad,  like  Nos.  11  and  13,  belongs  to  a  long  series  of  Span- 
ish ballads  that  narrate  various  traditional  episodes  of  the  Hfe  of  the 
Child  Jesus  and  the  Virgin.  I  have  not  seen  any  version  published  thai 
can  be  compared  with  it,  although  some  of  the  versions  show  a  vague 
relation.     See  the  following  notes. 

13.  Fernan  Caballero,  Cuentos  y  Poesias  Populares,  272-273,  gives 
a  ballad  which  narrates  the  principal  episode  mentioned  here,  but  the 
direct  relation  between  the  two  versions  is  not  clear.  The  two  may  be 
entirely  independent. 

Chacon  y  Calvo,  Romances  Tradicionales  en  Cuba,  115-116,  how- 
ever, gives  a  complete  and  almost  identical  version.  Because  the  ballad 
was  not  to  be  found  in  any  of  the  collections  consulted,  Chacon  y  Calvo 
printed  the  Cuban  version,  as  he  states,  with  suspicion,  evidently  suspect- 
ing the  genuineness  of  the  ballad.  He  need  have  no  fears.  Our  present 
version  from  Seville  confirms  the  authenticity  of  this  traditional  ballad. 
This  last  version  is  the  best  of  the  two.  The  Cuban  version  is  so  close  to 
the  Andalusian  that  I  beheve  it  is  not  old.  It  must  be  a  version  brought 
from  Andalucia  recently,  i.  c.,  in  the  nineteenth  century.  The  form  is 
interesting,  since  two  metres  are  employed ;  but  this  fact  is  of  no  conse- 
quence here.  Much  of  the  ballad  material  that  narrates  the  episodes  of 
the  life  of  Jesus,  the  nativity,  etc.,  is  of  a  dramatic  character,  and  the 
metrical  variations  are  necessary.  The  two  metres  used,  the  octosyllabic 
and  the  hexasyllabic,  are  the  two  common  Spanish  ballad  metres. 


THE  MEANING  OF  CAELUM  IN  THE  SIXTH  BOOK 
OF  THE  "AENEID" 

Henry  Rushton  Fairclough 

IN  THE  Sixth  Aeneid,  of  which  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  once  wrote:  "one 
of  the  most  astonishing  pieces  of  Hterature,  or  rather  it  contains  the 
best  I  ever  met  with,"  Virgil  takes  his  readers  down  to  the  lower  world. 
Here,  guided  by  the  Sibyl,  Aeneas  sees  marvelous  sights,  and  the  poet 
in  his  own  wonderful  way  describes  the  entrance  to  hell,  the  shores  of 
Acheron  with  Charon  and  the  ghosts  of  the  departed,  the  neutral  ground 
where  dwell  the  untimely  dead,  the  Fields  of  Mourning,  the  fortress  of 
Tartarus,  the  Blissful  Groves  of  Elysium,  and  finally  the  retired  vale  by 
the  stream  of  Lethe,  where  are  mustered  the  countless  spirits  of  those 
who  are  again  to  live  on  earth. 

In  describing  this  world  below,  it  is  obvious  that  the  poet  deals  with 
what  transcends  his  own  experience.  The  physical  aspects  of  the  other 
world  are  actually  unknown  to  him,  and  he  must  speak  of  them  in  terms 
of  the  terrestrial  and  celestial  regions  which  are  known.  This  may  be 
illustrated  by  his  beautiful  account  of  Elysium.  Here  in  this  land  of  joy 
are  the  amoena  virecta  Fortunatorum  Nemorum,  "the  green  pleasaunces 
of  the  Blissful  Groves.  Here  an  ampler  ether  clothes  the  meads  with 
roseate  light,  and  they  know  their  own  sun,  and  stars  of  their  own."  The 
blessed  ones  enjoy,  as  we  on  earth  do,  sun,  stars,  air,  groves  and  meadows ; 
but  they  have  the  glory 

"Of  all  that  is  most  beauteous — imaged  there 
In  happier  beauty:    more  pellucid  streams. 
An  ampler  ether,  a  diviner  air 
And  fields  invested  with  purpureal  gleams; 
CUmes  which  the  sun,  who  sheds  the  brightest  day 
Earth  knows,  is  all  unworthy  to  survey." 

This  fact,  that  terms  properly  belonging  to  the  earth  on  which  we 
stand,  and  to  the  sky  at  which  we  may  gaze,  are  sometimes  used  by  the 
poet  in  connection  with  the  lower  world,  has  been  occasionally  forgotten 
by  Virgilian  scholars. 


MEANING    OF     CAELUM      IN       AENEID     FAIRCLOUGH  IO9 

Perhaps  the  best  example  of  this  is  furnished  by  the  word  caelum, 
which  Virgil  is  forced  to  employ  in  different  senses,  according  to  the 
context.  Thus  in  v.  724,  where  Aeneas  begins  to  expound  the  doctrine 
of  the  anima  mundi,  the  word  caelum  is  used  in  its  ordinary  sense,  as 
contrasted  with  the  earth  (terra),  water  (campi  liquentes),  the  moon 
(luna),  and  the  sun  (Titania  astra).  So  in  v.  849,  caelique  meatus  is 
used  of  the  astronomer's  calculations  of  the  courses  of  the  stars  through 
the  heaven.     Similarly  in  v.  790, 

Hie  Caesar  et  omnis  luli 
progenies,  magnum  caeli  ventura  sub  axem, 

the  meaning  is :  "Here  is  Caesar,  and  all  the  seed  of  lulus,  destined  to 
pass  beneath  the  sky's  mighty  vault."  The  verse  refers  to  the  future 
birth  on  earth  of  Caesar  Augustus,  and  his  house.  It  has,  however,  been 
misunderstood,  so  that  Servius  comments  thus :  id  est,  ad  divitios  hon- 
ores;  as  if  magnum  caeli  ventura  sub  axem  meant  "destined  to  ascend 
to  heaven."  Lachmann  also  understood  the  words  to  refer  to  the  apothe- 
osis of  Augustus ;  and  even  Jackson,  in  the  latest  translation  of  Virgil, 
gives  us  "destined  to  ascend  the  great  cope  of  heaven."  Fairfax-Taylor, 
too,  errs  in  rendering 

"And  Caesar  and  lulus'  race  behold. 
Waiting  their  destined  advent  to  the  skies." 

These  mistakes  are  due  to  the  use  of  caelum,  which  at  once  suggests 
deification ;  but  a  moment's  consideration  is  sufficient  to  show  that  while 
caelum  is  undoubtedly  the  sky  or  heaven,  ventura  sub  places  the  sphere 
of  action  on  earth. 

There  are,  however,  certain  passages  where  caelum  is  no  longer  used 
in  its  ordinary  sense.  Thus  in  v.  719  sq.,  Aeneas  expresses  astonishment 
that  souls  unborn  should  have  a  mad  longing  for  the  light, 

Quae  lucis  miseris  tarn  dira  cupido? 

and  asks  this  question : 

O  pater,  anne  aliquas  ad  caelum  hinc  ire  putandum  est 
sublimis  animas  iterumque  ad  tarda  reverti 
corpora  ? 


no  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

"But,  father,  must  we  think  that  any  souls  pass  aloft  to  the  sky,  and 
return  a  second  time  to  sluggish  bodies?"  Here  Servius  tells  us  that 
Virgil  mixes  poetry  and  philosophy,  miscet  philosophiae  figmenta  poetica. 
The  poets  understood  by  caelum  the  upper  world,  iit  superos  intellegamns, 
id  est  nostram  vitam.  The  philosopher,  however,  would  recognize  Virgil's 
phrase  as  equivalent  to  ad  caelum  reverti. 

However,  we  need  not  inquire  whether  Virgil  wished  to  convey  here 
some  esoteric  teaching.  The  poetical  meaning  of  passing  to  a  life  on 
earth  is  certainly  intended,  so  that  for  caelum  in  v.  719  we  could  con- 
ceivably substitute  terram.  Caelum  in  fact,  in  this  passage,  implies  that 
to  the  dwellers  in  the  lower  world  this  earth  is  their  sky,  up  to  which 
they  might  cast  longing  eyes,  as  to  their  future  home.  Doubtless  the 
word  is  preferable  to  terram,  because  while  the  latter  implies  dead  matter, 
caelum  suggests  the  light  and  air  which  give  life  to  man. 

Near  the  very  end  of  the  book  occurs  a  line,  v.  896,  in  which  caelum 
again  has  this  meaning.  Of  the  two  gates  of  Sleep,  one  is  of  horn,  the 
other  of  ivory, 

sed  falsa  ad  caelum  mittunt  insomnia  Manes, 

"but  false  are  the  dreams  sent  by  the  spirits  to  the  world  above."  Here 
there  is  no  question  that  the  dreams  referred  to  are  sent  to  those  living 
on  this  earth,  which  is  the  sky  or  heaven  of  the  Manes,  or  ghosts. 

We  are  now  prepared  to  consider  the  meaning  of  caelum  in  the  dif- 
ficult passage  descriptive  of  Tartarus,  vv.  577-581. 

Tum  Tartarus  ipse 
bis  patet  in  praeceps  tantum  tenditque  sub  umbras, 
quantus  ad  aetherium  caeli  suspectus  Olympum. 
Hie  genus  antiquum  Terrae,  Titania  pubes, 
fulmine  deiecti  fundo  volvuntur  in  imo. 

As  is  well  known,  this  passage  is  based  on  a  verse  in  Iliad,  8,  16, 
Toooov  evspd'  'Ai6eo),  ooov  oiipavog  lox    djto  yair]?" 

'as  far  beneath  Hades  as  heaven  is  away  from  earth.'  The  only  real 
difference  here  between  Virgil  and  Homer  is  that  the  Roman  poet  doubles 
the  distance,  making  Tartarus  tzvice  as  far  below  Hades  as  earth  is  below 
heaven.  This  is  a  favorite  device  of  the  poets,  and  Milton  tries  to  improve 
on  both  Virgil  and  Homer,  for  his  fallen  angels  are 


MEANING    OF    'CAELUM'     IN    "aENEID" FAIRCLOUGH  III 

"As  far  removed  from  God  and  light  of  heaven 
As  from  the  center  thrice  to  the  utmost  pole." 

But  the  Virgilian  passage  has  caused  much  trouble.  First  there  is  the 
question  as  to  the  precise  meaning  of  suspectus,  then  as  to  whether  caeli 
depends  on  suspectus  or  on  Olympum,  and  lastly  as  to  the  use  of  both 
caeli  and  actherium  Olympum. 

The  natural  meaning  to  assign  to  suspectus  is  'upward  look' ;  but  as 
in  turris  erat  vasto  suspectu,  (Aeneid  g,  530),  it  is  virtually  'height,'  some 
have  thought  that  here  too  Virgil  speaks  of  the  height  of  heaven,  the  idea 
being  that  Tartarus  extends  downward  twice  as  far  as  is  the  distance 
from  the  sky's  floor  to  the  highest  peak  of  Olympus.  Servius  glosses 
the  word  with  altitudo.  Sidgwick  seems  to  waver  between  these  two 
possible  renderings,  and  it  is  to  be  noticed  that  Lewis  and  Short  cite  our 
passage  for  the  meaning  of  "a  height"  for  suspectus. 

Donatus  supposed  the  meaning  to  be  that  the  depth  of  Tartarus  below 
Hades  is  as  great  as  the  height  of  heaven  above  Hades ;  but  the  Homeric 
passage  leads  us  to  expect  a  comparison  between  the  distance  from  Hades 
to  Tartarus  and  that  from  earth  to  heaven.  Henry  supposes  Virgil's 
meaning  to  be  that  "Tartarus  is  twice  as  deep  below,  as  heaven  is  high 
above,  the  ground,"  i.  e.  this  earth  is  the  common  factor  in  the  compari- 
son. In  support  of  his  view  Henry  cites  Silius  3,  483,  where  the  poet 
has  "the  Alps  ascend  as  high  above  the  ground  as  Tartarus  descends 

below." 

To  assign  the  secondary  meaning  of  height  to  suspectus  here,  merely 
on  the  support  of  Aeneid  9,  530,  seems  distinctly  forced,  and  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  most  scholars  accept  the  literal  rendering  of  'upward  look' 
as  sufficient.  There  still  remains  a  question  as  to  the  syntax  of  caeli, 
which  Ladewig  connects  with  Olympum,  the  heavenly  Olympus  being 
distinguished  from  the  Thessalian  mountain.  An  interesting  view,  men- 
tioned by  Conington,  is  that  of  Petit,  a  French  scholar,  who,  observing 
that  the  verse  immediately  following,  viz.,  v.  580,  mentions  the  Titans,  the 
sons  of  Caelus  and  Gaia  (or  Terra),  conceived  the  idea  of  transposing 
the  two  words  caeli  and  Terrae,  so  that  terrae  suspectus  would  mean  'the 
upward  look  from  earth.'  Conington's  own  solution  of  the  difficulty  is 
to  take  caeli  suspectus  as  'the  looking  up  to  heaven,'  the  words  ad  aether- 
ium  Olympum  "being  added  to  develop  the  thought."  In  this  most  mod- 
ern editors  follow  him.  Thus  Knapp  gives  the  rendering  'skyward  view,' 
and  Sidgwick  translates  the  phrase  "the  upward  look  to  heaven,"  and  for 
ad  aetherium  Olympum  gives  "to  the  summit  of  Olympus." 


112  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

But  Sidgwick's  objection  that,  according  to  this  view,  the  words  ad 
aetherium  Olympum  are  "almost  superfluous  with  caeli"  is  not  only  valid, 
but  also  sufficient  to  condemn  the  rendering.  Page  writes :  "it  is  really  a 
view  through  the  sky  to  heavenly  Olympus,"  i.  e.  from  the  earth,  and 
with  this  I  agree.  This  is  the  meaning  that  we  expect  a  priori  to  find,  in 
view  of  the  Homeric  verse ;  it  is  the  meaning  that  Petit  would  give  to 
the  passage  by  means  of  a  violent  transposition ;  but  it  is  also  the  mean- 
ing which  we  can  find  in  the  words  as  they  stand,  and  without  doing 
violence  to  the  language.  All  that  is  necessary  is  to  recognize  in  caeli 
another  illustration  of  the  use  of  caelum  to  indicate  the  world  above  for 
those  who  are  in  the  lower  world,  namely,  this  earth ;  for,  as  Henry  says, 
"what  most  distinguishes  this  world  from  Hades  is  the  caelum  which  af- 
fords it  both  air  and  light."  Hence  the  simplest  and  most  correct  render- 
ing of  our  passage  is :  "Then  Tartarus  itself  yawns  sheer  down,  stretch- 
ing into  the  gloom  twice  as  far  as  is  yon  sky's  (earth's)  upward  view  to 
heavenly  Olympus." 

Closely  parallel  to  this  use  of  caelum  for  the  earth  is  that  of  aether, 
which  is  sometimes  found  for  aer.  Thus  of  the  unhappy  suicides  whom 
Aeneas  saw  in  Hades,  the  poet  exclaims,  Aeneid  6,  436  sq. : 

Quam  vellent  aethere  in  alto 
nunc  et  pauperiem  et  duros  perferre  labores! 

"How  gladly  now,  in  the  air  above,  would  they  bear  both  want  and 
harsh  distress !"  The  words  aethere  in  alto  would  naturally  mean  "in  the 
upper  ether"  or  "in  heaven" ;  but  again  the  heaven  of  Hades  is  the  air 
we  breathe  on  earth.  So  of  Silvius,  the  first  of  the  souls  to  be  born, 
Virgil  says  (v.  761)  : 

primus  ad  auras 
aetherias     ....     surget, 

"he  first  shall  rise  into  the  air  of  heaven."  Henry  cites  similar  uses  of 
the  word  aether,  as  Aeneid  i,  587;  7,  65;  8,  701,  and  comments  on  Vir- 
gil's extreme  "laxity  of  expression,"  of  which  perhaps  the  most  striking 
instance  is  afforded  by  Aeneid  7,  767-8,  where  Hippolytus,  restored  to  life, 

is  said 

ad  sidera  rursus 

aetheria  et  superas  caeli  venisse  sub  auras, 

"to  have  come  again  to  the  stars  of  heaven,  and  beneath  the  air  of  the 
sky  above."     Here,  after  a  manner  not  uncommon  in  Virgil,  the  more 


MEANING    OF    'CAELUM'     IN    "aENEID" FAIRCLOUGH  II3 

peculiar  expression,  which  cannot  be  taken  with  strict  Hteralness,  is  fol- 
lowed by  one  which,  though  quite  poetical,  is  more  precise  and  has 
almost  the  character  of  a  gloss,  explanatory  of  the  one  preceding.  And 
in  this  particular  case  it  is  to  be  noted  that  caelum  is  used  in  its  common 
and  literal  sense,  the  peculiarity  lying  wholly  in  sidera  aetheria,  for 
Hippolytus  certainly  did  not  rise  as  far  as  the  stars  of  heaven,  when  he 
ascended  from  the  shades  infernal  ad  lumina  vitae  (v.  771). 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  "TITUS  ANDRONICUS" 

Henry  David  Gray 

THAT  Titus  Andronicus  is  a  genuine  Shakespearean  play  has  been 
the  behef  of  Half-Rome ;  the  Other  Half-Rome  has  risen  to  vin- 
dicate Shakespeare  from  the  reproach  of  having  written  such  a 
play ;  while  a  wiser  Tertium  Quid,  emphasizing  the  tradition  established 
by  Ravenscroft  in  1687,  has  taken  Shakespeare  to  be  the  reviser  of 
another's  play.  The  proposal  I  have  to  submit  is,  that  Shakespeare  was 
the  original  author  of  the  piece,  and  that  such  un-Shakespearean  passages 
as  we  find  in  it  are  due  to  the  revision  of  his  work  by  other  men. 

We  are  accustomed  to  think  of  Shakespeare  as  having  served  his 
apprenticeship  in  revising  older  plays.  What  we  ought  to  have  supposed 
all  this  time  is  that  the  Stratford  youth  of  dramatic  bent  composed  several 
original  and  unactable  plays  before  ever  he  sought  his  fortune  in  the 
world ;  that  he  came  to  London  in  the  hope  of  disposing  of  them ;  and 
that  his  work  was  handed  over  to  the  established  playwrights  of  the  time 
for  their  revision.  Those,  other  than  Shakespeare  himself,  who  have 
been  suggested  as  possible  authors  of  Titus  Andronicus  are  Kyd  (pro- 
posed by  Farmer),  Marlowe  (by  Fleay),  Greene  (by  Grosart),  and  Peele 
(by  Robertson).  A  moment's  reflection  should  convince  anyone  that  the 
work  of  none  of  these  men  would  have  been  handed  over  for  revision 
to  this  unknown  youth  from  up  Stratford  way.  If  a  young  man  to-day 
wished  to  make  his  entry  into  the  theatrical  world,  he  would  write  several 
plays  and  submit  them ;  but  he  would  not  be  given  the  work  of  Pinero, 
Jones,  Shaw,  or  Barrie  to  revise. 

It  is  a  presumption  by  which  I  am  quite  willing  to  stand  that  if 
Shakespeare  was  the  original  author  of  Titus  Andronicus,  the  main  body 
of  the  play  as  we  now  have  it  is  of  his  making.  The  distinctively  Shake- 
spearean passages  are  for  the  most  part  inherent  in  the  structure  of  the 
drama.  Those  who  cull  these  finer  passages  and  call  them  Shakespeare's 
can  only  say  that  here  are  such  lines  as  so  great  a  poet  might  well  have 
written ;  they  forget  that  one  does  not  revise  a  play  by  putting  into  it 
certain  noble  passages  at  haphazard.    On  the  other  hand,  those  parts  of 


AUTHORSHIP    OF      TITUS    ANDRONICUS   GRAY  II 5 

the  play  which  are  most  un-Shakespearean  have  in  every  instance  a  struc- 
tural explanation  for  their  having  been  inserted.^ 

The  external  evidence  in  favor  of  Shakespeare's  authorship  of  Titus 
Andronicus  is  overwhelming.  It  must  be  remembered  that  Ileminge  and 
Condell  were  associated  with  Shakespeare  from  the  time  when  this  play 
was  produced.  These  friends  and  "fellows"  of  his  knew  whether  or  not 
Shakespeare  was  the  author ;  and  though  they  were  eager  to  give  him  all 
they  could,  they  would  scarcely  have  assigned  to  him  any  play  which 
could  not  with  some  show  of  justice  be  called  "his."  But  while  the  in- 
clusion of  Titus  in  the  First  Folio  implies  only  that  the  play  was  largely 
Shakespeare's,  the  mention  of  it  by  Meres  in  1598  means,  I  am  convinced, 
distinctly  more  than  this.  Meres  was  an  educated  man  addressing  an 
enlightened  audience ;  he  had  his  facts  well  in  hand, — he  even  knew  of 
the  private  circulation  of  the  Sonnets.  If  he  had  been  governed  so  com- 
pletely by  his  love  of  sixes  as  is  sometimes  said,  he  had  Henry  VI  to 
choose, — and  Shakespeare's  claim  to  very  extended  passages  in  this  is  of 
course  undoubted.  The  reason  why  Meres  did  not  include  either  Henry 
VI  or  The  Taming  of  the  Shreiu  was,  I  firmly  believe,  that  he  knew  (and 
many  of  his  readers  would  know )  that  Shakespeare  was  only  the  reviser 
of  these  plays.  If  my  contention  as  to  Titus  is  right,  then  Meres'  record 
is  clear;  he  included  every  play  of  which  Shakespeare  was  the  original 
author,  and,  appropriately,  none  which  he  had  only  revised. 

The  reasons  for  doubting  the  direct  evidence  of  those  who  knew,  and 
who  made  no  other  such  mistake,  must  indeed  be  weighty.  Our  modern 
feeling  is  most  in  revolt  as  regards  the  very  subject  of  the  play.  It  is, 
as  Gerald  Massey  says,  a  tragedy  of  Horror,  not  of  Terror.  Professor 
Dowden  adds  that  on  this  account  it  "belongs  to  the  pre-Shakespearean 
school  of  bloody  dramas.  .  .  .  That  Shakespeare  himself  entered 
with  passion  or  energy  into  the  literary  movement  which  the  Spanish 
Tragedy  of  Kyd  may  be  taken  to  represent,  his  other  early  writings 
forbid  us  to  believe."  ^  But  instead  of  recalling  the  comedies,  as  Pro- 
fessor Dowden  then  does,  we  should  consider  only  Shakespeare's  work  in 
Henry  VI  and  Richard  III,  and  such  later  survivals  of  the  Tragedy  of 
Horror  as  the  gouging  out  of  Gloucester's  eyes.  I  am  afraid  that  I  can 
find  no  inherent  unlikelihood  in  Shakespeare's  outdoing  Kyd  in  the  blood- 


^  The  only  Shakespearean  passage  which  may  be  isolated  on  a  structural  study 
of  the  drama  is  the  scene  in  which  Marcus  kills  the  fly  (III,  ii)  ;  and  that  this  was 
a  part  of  Shakespeare's  work  which  was  omitted  by  the  revisers  is  indicated  by  its 
absence  from  the  quartos  and  its  inclusion  by  Shakespeare's  personal  friends  in  the 
First  Folio. 

'  Shakespeare — His  Mind  and  Art,  48. 


Il6  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

iness  and  horror  of  his  first  tragedy,  just  as  he  outdoes  Lyly  in  the  arti- 
ficiality of  his  first  comedy.  Shakespeare  was  not  only  imitative  in  his 
earliest  works ;  he  was,  if  I  may  use  the  paradoxical  expression,  creatively 
imitative.  To  the  twins  of  Plautus  he  would  add  a  second  set  of  twins. 
If  Endymion's  love  may  not  lead  to  marriage,  and  Semele  flaunts  Eumen- 
ides  with  cutting  cleverness,  and  Sir  Topas  is  a  braggart, — then  the 
princess  and  her  three  ladies  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost  shall  all  put  off 
the  king  and  his  three  lords,  and  shall  twit  them  with  prolonged  and  out- 
rageous cleverness,  while  Don  Armado  and  Holofernes  are  two  brag- 
garts.^ If  there  were  ten  good  killings  to  please  Andrea's  ghost  in  the 
Spanish  Tragedy,  then  Titus  Andronicus  can  show  you  fourteen  murders, 
three  amputated  hands,  a  tongue  cut  out,  a  violation,  and  a  banquet  of 
human  pie.  Some  of  the  most  distressing  and  distasteful  of  these  horrors 
I  shall  assign  with  a  very  good  will  to  the  revisers ;  but  that  Shakespeare 
went  beyond  the  limits  of  the  Spanish  Tragedy  at  the  time  when  Kyd's 
play  dominated  the  English  stage,  I  think  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world.  What  would  not  be  possible  is  that  he  wrote  such  a  play  as  late 
as  1594,  the  date  assigned  by  Mr.  Fuller  and  by  those  who  accept  his  in- 
genious but  unnecessary  theory. 

Turning  from  the  theme  of  Titus  Andronicus  to  its  style,  we  find  no 
clearly  marked  consensus  of  opinion.  To  begin  with  the  poets,  who  have 
here,  surely,  most  right  to  speak :  Coleridge  remarks  that  the  metre  is 
an  argument  against  Titus  Andronicus  as  being  the  work  of  Shakespeare, 
''worth  a  score  of  such  chronological  surmises,"  *  but  he  gives  him  V,  ii, 
20-60.  Swinburne  picks  instead  Act  IV,  scene  iii.  Mr.  Arthur  Symons 
registers  at  various  passages  which  are  generally  brief  and  always 
lyrical.^  Dowden  rejects ;  Gosse  accepts.  Gerald  Massey  would  have 
none  of  it.  Mr.  H.  Bellyse  Baildon  will  take  it  all.^  Where  the  poets 
diflfer  so  among  themselves,  we  are  forced  to  fall  back  upon  the  so-called 
"scientific"  tests ;  and  here  I  come  face  to  face  with  Mr.  John  M.  Rob- 
ertson. 

Mr.  Robertson's  book,  Did  Shakespeare  Write  Titus  Andronicus f  ^ 
is  an  elaborate  and  pains-taking  piece  of  work,  and  it  is  written  by  a  man 
who  knows  his  early  Elizabethan  literature  with  a  thoroughness  that  is 


^  But  Holofernes  may  have  been  added  in  revision. 

*  Lectures  on  Shakespeare,  Bohn  edition,  304. 

■*  Introduction  to  the  Facsimile  of  the  Quarto  of  1600. 

'"Having  tried  to  write  nearly  every  known  form  of  English  verse  and 
experimented  in  new  ones,  I  think  I  may  without  vanity  claim  to  be  an  expert  in 
regard  to  versification."     Arden  edition,  Introduction,  p.  Ixxviii. 

'  London  :     Watts  &  Co.,  1905. 


AUTHORSHIP    OF    "tITUS    ANDRONICUS" — GRAY  II7 

quite  my  despair.  Yet  I  cannot  free  myself  from  the  impression  that 
Mr.  Robertson  has  been  carried  away  by  his  theory.  We  must  admit 
that  he  gives  a  striking  array  of  parallel  passages  between  Titus  and  the 
works  of  Peele,  as  well  as  of  Greene,  Marlowe,  Lodge,  and  Kyd.  I 
never  realized  before  how  much  Shakespeare  was  influenced  by  these 
men,  and  how  much  they,  in  turn,  took  from  him.  Of  course  many  of 
the  most  strikinig  of  these  instances  occur  in  passages  which  I  believe 
were  added  by  the  revisers,  and  so  the  cumulative  effect  of  Mr.  Robert- 
son's showing  is  somewhat  lost  on  me.  But  many  other  parallels  come 
in  passages  which  I  still  believe  to  be  Shakespeare's.  One  cannot  ignore 
these  recurrencences  of  phrase  and  idea;  where  they  are  most  frequent 
we  must  be  most  cautious ;  but  I  cannot  feel  that  they  are  anywhere  in 
Titus  determinative.  The  only  fair  way  to  get  the  final  value  of  these 
"echoes"  is  to  match  them  with  the  echoes  in  Love's  Labor's  Lost.  If 
any  one  will  make  a  list  of  all  the  phrases  in  this  comedy  which  are  par- 
alleled in  the  works  of  Lyly  and  show  it  to  be  no  more  than  twice  as 
long  as  Mr.  Robertson's  assortment  of  Peele  passages  in  Titus,  I  shall 
agree  on  my  part  to  reconsider  the  problem.  Of  course  we  are  more  ac- 
customed to  think  of  Love's  Labor  s  Lost  as  directly  and  purposely 
imitative;  but  why  should  we  not  realize  that  Titus  Andronicns  was 
imitative,  too? 

Closely  akin  to  the  argument  from  reminiscent  images  and  phrases 
is  the  argument  based  on  the  "once-used  words."  Dr.  Grosart  gives  a  list 
of  words  in  Titus  Andronicns  which  occur  nowhere  else  in  Shakespeare 
but  are  used  by  Greene,^  and  Mr.  Robertson  applies  the  test  with  rigor 
first  to  Peele  and  then  to  the  others  of  the  group.  Simpson's  table  of  the 
once-used  words  in  Shakespeare's  plays  is  still  the  answer.  Here  it  ap- 
pears that  Titus  Andronicns  contains  196  such  words,  while  Love's  Labor's 
Lost  (to  take  the  most  pertinent  example),  contains  373.^  Will  not  some 
industrious  person  kindly  hunt  through  the  works  of  Lyly,  with  this  list 
in  hand,  and  thus  prove  for  us  that  Lyly  wrote  Love's  Labor's  Lost? 
Mr.  Robertson  will  have  it  that  the  table  is  not  to  be  regarded,  because 
it  contains  many  "parts  of  verbs  of  which  other  parts  appear  often  in 
other  plays,"  and  other  words  which  are  not  really  indicative.  This  is 
true  enough;  but  the  table  treats  all  the  plays  in  the  same  way,  and  is 
therefore  relatively  significant.  Titus  Andronicns  contains  fewer  once- 
used  words  than  do  the  majority  of  Shakespeare's  dramas.  By  applying 
this  test,  who  knows  but  we  might  prove  that  Ben  Johnson  was  the 
author  of  Hamlet,  and  that  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  w^rote  King  Lear? 


Englische  Studien,  XXII,  417  f. 
'New   Shakespere   Society  Transactions,   1874,  p.   115. 


Il8  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

A  much  more  reliable  test  is  that  of  the  "double  ending."  Mr.  Fleay 
counted  these  in  all  of  Shakespeare's  dramas;  and  his  table^*^  shows  a 
decided  but  by  no  means  a  uniform  advance,  from  less  than  2  percent  in 
Love's  Labor's  Lost  to  35  percent  in  The  Winter's  Tale.  Mr.  Fleay's 
countings  were  evidently  done  most  hastily,  or  else  he  depended  upon 
some  careless  assistant.  He  found  only  9  double  endings  in  Love'sLahor's 
Lost,  for  example,  whereas  Mr.  Robertson  gets  26.  I  have  counted  the 
double  endings  in  Shakespeare's  early  plays,  and  find  the  following  per- 
centages.^^ 

PERCENT  PERCENT 

Titus  Andronicus 7        Love's  Labor's  Lost 5 

1  Henry  VI 7        Comedy  of  Errors 14 

2  Henry  VI 10  Tzvo  Gentlemen  of  Verona  ...  15 

?  Henry  VI 10  Midsummer  Night's  Dream.  .  6 

Richard  HI i?        Merchant  of  Venice 14 

Richard  II 10        Taming  of^  the  Shrew 14 

King  John 4             [Induction    21  ] 

Romeo  and  Juliet 9  [Kath.  and  Pctr.,  scenes.  .  .  18] 

It  will  be  seen  from  my  table  that  any  attempt  to  base  a  chronology 
on  these  percentages  would  be  preposterous,  but  also  that  Shakespeare 


"  New  Shakespere  Society  Transactions,  1874,  p.  16. 

"  I  have  not  counted  the  lines  ending  with  such  words  as  Heaven,  power,  and 
the  like,  where  the  natural  scansion  of  the  line  does  not  seem  to  call  for  a  separately 
sounded  unstressed  syllable  at  the  end.  I  have  also  set  aside  the  word  Spirit, 
because  so  often  a  monosyllable.  Compare  the  following  speech  from  Peele's  David 
and  Bcthsabe  with  the  opening  lines  of  Hamlet's  soliloquy : 

Bright  Bethsabe  shall  wash  in  David's  bower 
In  water  mixed  with  purest  almond-flower, 
And  bathe  her  beauty  in  the  milk  of  kids; 
Bright  Bethsabe  gives  earth  to  my  desires, 
Verdure  to  earth,  and  to  that  verdure  flowers, 
To  flowers  sweet  odours,  and  to  odours  wings 
To  carry  pleasures  to  the  hearts  of  kings. 

To  be,  or  not  to  be :    that  is  the  question. 
Whether  'tis  nobler  in  the  mind  to  suffer 
The  slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune. 
Or  to  take  arms  against  a  sea  of  troubles, 
And  by  opposing  end  them. 

A  free  indulgence  in  such  "double  endings"  as  we  find  in  the  passage  from 
Peele  is  no  indication  that  the  author  will  use  such  endings  as  we  find  in  the  passage 
from  Shakespeare.  This  difference  in  the  method  of  counting  makes  my  percentages 
differ  from  those  of  Mr.  Robertson. 


AUTHORSHIP    OF      TITUS    ANDRONICUS  — GRAY  II9 

shows  from  the  very  first  a  strong  tendency  to  employ  the  double  ending. 
Mr.  Robertson,  who  gets  9  percent  of  double  endings  in  Titus  Andron- 
icus,  selects  Love's  Labor  s  Lost  and  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  to 
show  that  the  percentage  in  Titus  is  too  high  for  Shakespeare,  and  puts 
forward  the  claim  of  Peele  on  a  showing  of  nearly  7  percent  in  the  first 
act  of  David  and  Bethsahe  and  nearly  6  percent  in  the  first  act  of  his 
Battle  of  Alcazar.  My  method  of  counting  only  such  cases  of  the  double 
ending  as  are  clear  instances  of  it  gives  me  4  percent  in  the  first  act  of 
David  and  Bethsabe  and  i  percent  in  the  play  as  a  whole ;  whereas  there 
are  only  four  double  endings  in  the  first  act  of  The  Battle  of  Alcazar, 
or  slightly  over  i  percent.  Mr.  Robertson  suggests  that  the  large  per- 
centage of  double  endings  in  Richard  III  may  be  due  to  a  part-authorship 
by  Marlowe.  But  every  scene  in  Richard  III  gives  a  percentage  of  double 
endings  far  in  advance  of  any  play  or  any  scene  in  any  play  of  Marlowe's 
undisputed  authorship.  Dr.  Faustus  contains  2  percent  of  double  endings ; 
Tamburlaine  between  2  and  3  percent ;  The  Jew  of  Malta  3.5  percent ; 
Edward  II  3.8  percent ;  The  Massacre  at  Paris  less  than  one  and  one-half 
percent;  Dido,  Queen  of  Carthage  (with  Nashe)  less  than  one  percent. 
This  means  that  Marlowe  never  employs  the  double  ending  as  frequently 
as  Shakespeare  always  employs  it.  The  case  against  Peele  is  even  more 
decisive.  The  Arraignment  of  Paris  is  almost  wholly  rhymed;  I  note 
one  double  ending  in  190  lines  of  blank  verse.  The  Old  Wives  Tale  has 
only  about  150  lines  of  blank  verse,  and  these  yield  five  double  endings. 
Edward  I  contains  less  than  2  percent ;  The  Battle  of  Alcazar  2.2  percent ; 
David  and  Bethsabe  a  little  over  one  percent.  Greene  in  his  undoubted 
plays  has  so  few  double  endings  that  it  is  not  worth  while  to  separate 
out  his  blank  verse  lines  and  count  them  in  order  to  estimate  the  per- 
centages. Alphonsus,  King  of  Arragon  contains  only  three  such  endings, 
Orlando  Furioso  has  nine,  Friar  Bacon  four,  James  IV  ten,  A  Looking- 
glass  for  London  (with  Lodge)  nine.^^ 

I  have  gone  into  this  matter  in  some  detail  because  here,  I  think, 
we  have  an  essential  characteristic  of  a  man's  style.  He  may  use  once, 
and  once  only,  a  word  frequently  employed  by  a  contemporary ;  he  may 
confiscate  a  simile  or  a  phrase  that  he  has  heard ;  but  he  will  not  write 
five  plays  with  a  sum  total  of  35  double  endings  (as  Greene  does),  and 
then  put  65  in  a  single  act.  There  are  more  than  twice  as  many  double 
endings  in  Titus  Andronicus  alone  as  there  are  in  all  five  of  Peele's  plays 


^*Mr.  Robertson  finds  seven  percent  in  Georgc-a-Green,  which  is  only  another 
answer  to  those  who  persist  in  misattributing  this  play  on  the  hearsay  evidence  of 
Ed.  Juby. 


I20  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

put  together.  But  take  the  five  plays  of  Shakespeare  nearest  in  date  to  the 
Titus:  the  average  is  211  double  endings  to  the  play,  which  is  a  few  more 
than  the  number  found  in  Titus!  Indeed,  Shakespeare  is  the  only  one 
of  these  men  who  uses  the  double  ending  in  his  fully  accredited  plays 
with  anything  like  the  frequency  that  we  find  it  in  this  drama.  It  is 
difficult  to  see,  therefore,  the  justice  of  Mr.  Robertson's  conclusion:  "In 
fine,  Titus  Andronicus  cannot  with  any  regard  to  its  metrical  phenomena 
be  assigned  to  Shakespeare.  Its  double-endings,  intelligible  as  coming 
from  Peele,  or  Greene,  or  Kyd,  are  unintelligible  as  coming  from  him 
before  1596."  ^^ 

Mr.  Robertson  also  adduces  the  rime  test  and  the  proportion  of  prose 
lines  as  an  argument  against  Shakespeare's  authorship.  As  to  the  rime : 
Mr.  Robertson  wisely  selects  three  conspicuously  poetic  plays  to  make  his 
contrast.  Let  us  put  down  with  the  Titus  the  other  early  plays  which 
he  omits. 

Titus  Andronicus 144  rimed  lines 

Comedy  of  Errors 380 

Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona.  .116 

Richard  III   170       " 

King  John   150       "         "     " 

Let  us  have  the  facts  regarding  the  prose.    Mr.  Robertson  says : 
"It  has  a  much  smaller  quantity  of  prose  (43  lines)  than  any  other 
play  ascribed  to  Shakespeare,  except  Richard  III  and  Henry  VIII,  which 
iiave  only  a  little  more." 

He  neglects  to  state  that  King  John  and  Richard  II  contain  no  prose 
at  all.  That  is  to  say,  Titus  contains  about  the  same  amount  of  prose  as 
Shakespeare's  next  play  of  a  serious  or  tragic  nature,  more  than  the  next 
two  of  the  same  sort,  and,  as  we  should  naturally  expect,  less  than  the 
comedies.^  ^ 


"Op.  cit.,  199. 

"The  three  parts  of  Henry  VI  contain,  respectively,  314,  122,  and  155  rimed 
lines.     I  am  depending  on  Fleay's  table. 

^^  Fleay's  table  of  the  prose  lines  in  the  earlier  plays  is  as  follows : 


Titus  Andronicus    43  lines 

Love's  Labour's  Lost   1086 

T  Henry  VI none 

2  Henry   VI 44^ 

3  Henry  VI none 

Comedy  of  Errors  240 

It  will  be  seen  that  the  only  real  doubt  should  be  regarding  the  genuineness  of 
Love's  Labour's  Lost! 


Tlie  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  409  lines 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream  . .  441      " 

Richard  III   55      " 

King  John   none 

Richard   II    none 

Romeo  and  Juliet   405      " 


AUTHORSHIP    OF    "TITUS    ANDRONICUS" — GRAY  121 

My  conclusion  so  far  is  that  only  Shakespeare  could  have  written 
the  main  portion  of  this  play,  and  that  the  subject  and  treatment  were 
entirely  possible  for  him  at  the  very  beginning  of  his  dramatic  career. 
From  just  such  a  beginning  should  have  come  Richard  III,  and  finally 
Hamlet  and  King  Lear.  But  only  in  his  first  attempt  at  tragedy  could 
Shakespeare  have  heaped  up  his  horrors  in  the  manner  of  Kyd,  and 
paraded  brutality  and  lust  for  the  sake  of  mere  sensation.  This  alone 
seems  to  me  a  sufficient  answer  to  the  ingenious  theory  of  Fuller,  even 
though  it  found  an  instant  advocate  in  Professor  Baker,^**  and  is  accepted 
still  by  so  careful  a  critic  as  Professor  Schelling.^^  For  according  to 
this  theory,  Titus  Andronicus  must  have  been  written  at  the  period  of 
A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  and  Richard  II.  If,  as  Mr.  Fuller  con- 
tends, Shakespeare  wrote  "practically  every  line"  of  the  play  as  it  now 
stands,  it  makes  but  little  difference  that  he  had  two  other  plays  as  his 
sources. 

But  there  are  further  objections.  It  is  almost  a  practical  impossi- 
bility to  put  two  plays  together  so  that  they  will  form  one  play;  and 
Titus  Andronicus  itself  gives  not  the  slightest  indication  of  having  been 
dove-tailed  in  any  such  fashion.  This  theory  compels  us  to  believe  that 
the  English  actors  who  played  in  Germany  about  1600  used  one  of 
Shakespeare's  sources  instead  of  Shakespeare's  own  play  which  had 
superseded  it;  that  in  1640  Shakespeare's  play  had  not  been  translated 
into  Dutch  but  that  the  other  of  his  sources  had  been ;  and  finally  that 
by  the  end  of  the  century  a  German  author  using  Vos's  pre-Shakespearian 
source  had  written  a  play  identical  with  Vos's  at  all  points  except  that  he 
kept  instead  of  changing  the  name  of  Lavinia. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  imagine  all  this.  The  German  Titus  gives 
every  appearance  of  being  a  debased  version  of  Shakespeare's  drama; 
it  is  much  closer  to  the  original  in  plot  than  the  Romeo  and  Juliet  or  the 
Hamlet.  The  actors  seem  to  have  had  no  copy  of  the  play,  but  to  have 
produced  it  from  memory.  The  plot  is  reduced  to  its  naked  essentials. 
Only  the  name  of  Titus  Andronicus  himself  is  remembered,  and  the 
names  of  the  others  were  got  by  as  simple  a  means  as  was  possible ;  thus 
the  daughter  of  Andronicus  is  Andronica,  the  Queen  of  Ethiopia  is 
Aetopissa,  Aaron  the  Moor  is  Morian,  Saturninus  is  simply  "The  Roman 
Emperor,"  while  Marcus  received  the  fanciful  name  of  "Victoriades." 
That  Shakespeare's  Lucius  is  here  Vespacian  may  simply  be  because 
Vespacian  ends  the  play  as  Emperor  of  Rome;    though  here,  perhaps. 


"Publications  of  the  Modern  Language  Association,  1901,  p.  66. 
"  Elizabethan  Drama,  I,  221. 


122  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL   VOLUME 

a  remembrance  of  the  old  play  of  lltus  and  Vespacia  may  have  supplied 
the  association.  It  has  been  noted  that  the  play  of  Titus  and  Vespacia 
may  have  dealt  with  two  Roman  emperors,  and  need  have  no  connection 
with  Shakespeare's  Titus  Andronicus ;  and  since  Henslowe  writes  it 
"Vespacia"  all  six  times,  it  is  at  least  possible  that  this  character  zvas 
a  woman !  That  the  program  of  1699  supplies  the  name  of  Lavinia 
indicates  only  that  the  translator  of  Vos's  play  into  German  (presumably 
George  Greflinger,  in  1650),  restored  the  familiar  name  from  some 
slightly  different  modification  of  the  German  piece  than  the  one  which 
we  happen  to  have  preserved. 

But  there  is  one  significant  point  of  difference  between  the  German 
version  and  the  English  play  as  we  have  it,  and  this  is  one  in  which  the 
German  distortion  is  more  like  Shakespeare  than  is  the  Shakespearian 
Titus.  I  refer  to  the  greater  emphasis  which  is  placed  upon  the  victorious 
return  of  Lucius  with  his  army,  which  seems  to  me  essential  to  Shake- 
speare's original  conception  of  this  drama.  Following  Cohn's  translation, 
we  read  at  the  beginning  of  Act  VII :  "Beat  of  drums  and  flourish  of 
trumpets.  Vespasian  approaches  Rome  with  his  army,  having  made  great 
havoc,  and  desolated  all  the  cities  of  the  Romans."  Vespasian  then  tells 
of  his  great  triumphs.  A  speech  of  the  Emperor,  a  bit  later,  illustrates 
this  same  matter,  as  well  as  the  pedestrian  style  of  the  whole  drama : 

"Such  dreadful  bloodshed, — so  dangerous  a  war  are  things  unheard 
of  till  now.  Never  has  Rome  been  in  such  trouble  and  peril  before !  But 
the  great  hardships  which  Vespasian  inflicts  upon  Rome  are  quite 
equalled  by  his  cruel  devastation  of  the  surrounding  cities.  It  is  piteous, 
piteous  !  Four  battles  have  we  fought  against  him  and  lost.  .  .  .  My 
heart  is  so  oppressed  that  I  know  not  what  to  do,  for  my  forces  are 
daily  reduced,  and  those  of  the  enemy  are  on  the  increase." 

I  should  think  nothing  of  this  much  of  an  amplification  of  the 
Shakespearean  drama  were  it  not  that  I  believe  the  actors  may  have  been 
influenced  in  their  reconstruction  by  Shakespeare's  original  version  of 
.the  piece.  Shakespeare  is  most  careful  in  working  up  the  banishment 
of  Lucius,  and  his  departure  to  raise  an  army  among  the  Goths, — he 
shows  Lucius  returning  with  his  army,  he  has  Aemilius  warn  the 
Emperor  to  prepare  to  meet  him, — and  then  it  all  comes  to  nothing  f 
For  some  one  else  has  substituted  the  most  revolting  scene  of  the  play, 
that  in  which  Titus  makes  the  queen  eat  the  pasty  in  which  he  has 
cooked  her  sons, — a  feature  wholly  unlike  Shakespeare  both  in  idea  and 
execution.  The  ending  of  the  play,  beginning  where  Marcus  and  Lucius 
address  the   people  of  Rome,  has  the  tone  and  manner  of   others   of 


AUTHORSHIP    OF    "tITUS    ANDRONICUS" GRAY  I23 

Shakespeare's  plays  in  which  the  avenging  army  has  been  triumphant. 
It  is  interesting  to  note  in  this  connection,  that  the  chmax  of  the  drama 
comes,  as  always  with  Shakespeare,  in  the  middle  of  the  third  act.  It 
is  here  that  the  calamities  which  befall  Titus  are  completed, — that  his 
measure  of  grief  is  full;  and  at  this  very  moment  Lucius  goes  to  raise 
his  avenging  army.  Shakespeare's  genius  from  the  first  instinctively 
wrought  in  this  way.^^ 

If  we  can  free  Shakespeare  from  the  reproach  of  having  written 
this  scene,  and  that  other,  contributory  to  it,  in  which  Titus  cuts  the 
throats  of  Tamora's  sons  while  Lavinia  holds  the  basin  in  her  handless 
stumps  to  catch  the  blood,  a  good  share  of  our  repugnance  to  the  play 
would  vanish.  But  let  me  not  be  of  those  who,  having  formed  a  theory, 
bend  all  the  evidence  to  sustain  it.  There  are  objections  to  regarding 
this  portion  of  the  play  as  an  insertion.  Seemingly  Shakespearian  por- 
tions of  the  play  account  for  the  presence  of  Tamora  and  her  sons  at  the 
house  of  Titus,  and  for  the  bringing  there  also  of  Lucius  under  the 
semblance  of  peace  and  friendship;  and  if  I  suggest  that  the  army  of 
Lucius  might  have  broken  in  upon  the  scene,  and  Titus  as  well  as  Tamora 
and  her  sons  might  have  perished  in  the  struggle,  I  must  frankly  admit 
that  I  have  not  proven  all  this.  The  evidence  for  it  is  simply  that  Shake- 
speare seems  to  have  prepared  the  army  of  Lucius  for  some  such 
denouement ;  that  the  ofifensive  element  of  the  human  pasty  could  have 
been  added  as  an  additional  horror,  and  suggests  Greene  or  Peele  rather 
than  Shakespeare ;  and  that  the  actual  handling  of  this  particular  feature 
of  the  banquet  is  casual  and  haphazard,  and  is  inconsistent  with  the 
fundamental  scheme  of  the  drama  as  a  whole. 

The  second  scene  of  the  fourth  act  first  shows  Aaron  as  a  broadly 
humorous  character,  and  this  is  a  scene  which  is  peculiarly  unUke  Shake- 
speare from  first  to  last.  It  contains  a  considerable  number  of  those 
once-used  words  upon  the  evidence  of  which  Shakespeare's  authorship 
of  the  play  has  been  disputed,  and  it  contains  none  of  the  characteristi- 
cally Shakespearian  passages  which  other  critics  have  adduced  to  show 
that  the  play  is  "surely  his."     It  is  the  scene  in  which  Aaron  receives 


"*  It  does  not  follow  that  Shakespeare  was  the  author  of  that  Titus  and 
Vespacia  which  was  "new"  according  to  Henslowe  in  1591,  though  this  is  an 
attractive  possibility.  The  Titus  and  Vespacia  was,  however,  performed  by  Lord 
Strange's  men ;  so  those  who  dispute  Shakespeare's  authorship  of  Titus  Andronicus 
on  the  ground  of  its  being  performed  by  other  companies  may  consider  this  as  an 
argument  in  favor  of  his  having  written  the  earlier  play.  That  Titus  Andronicus 
was  acted  by  Pembroke's  men  is  an  argument  against  Shakespeare's  having  revised 
the  piece,  rather  than  against  his  original  authorship  of  it. 


124  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    V^OLUME 

his  illegitimate  child  from  the  nurse,  whom  he  promptly  kills,  and  goes 
to  secrete  his  baby  among  the  Goths.  This  scene  is  immediately  con- 
nected with  the  one  before  it  (IV,  i)  by  the  threatening  messages  sent 
by  Titus  to  Tamora's  sons;  and  in  this  scene,  in  which  Lavinia  writes 
her  secret  with  the  staff  guided  by  her  teeth  and  stumps,  there  are  again 
no  characteristically  Shakespearian  passages,  while  a  full  fourth  of  the 
words  noted  by  Grosart  as  peculiarly  characteristic  of  Greene  and  not 
used  elsewhere  by  Shakespeare  occur  here.  This  scene  is  almost  wholly 
free  from  double  endings,  and  the  physical  appeal  of  the  incident  itself 
is  in  Greene's  manner.  It  is  to  be  noted  also  that  in  what  seems  to  have 
been  the  original  scheme  of  the  play,  Lavinia's  secret  should  not  be 
revealed  to  Titus  at  this  point  in  the  action.  It  is  almost  wholly  in  these 
two  scenes  that  we  have  the  Latin  tags. 

Everyone  must  feel  with  Dr.  Grosart  that  the  mawkish  exit  of 
Titus,  Marcus,  and  Lavinia,  III,  i,  254-288,  in  which  Titus  carries  the 
head  of  one  of  his  sons  in  his  remaining  hand,  Marcus  carries  the  other 
head,  and  Lavinia  holds  the  severed  hand  of  Titus  in  her  teeth,  is 
^'greatly  after  Greene's  fantastic  genius."  '**  It  is  just  such  ghastly  things 
as  this  in  Titus  Andronicus  that  have  prevented  many  admirers  of  Shake- 
speare from  believing  that  he  wrote  any  portion  of  the  play;  but  when 
we  notice  how  easily  such  a  bit  could  have  been  written  in,  and  how 
unlike  the  finer  portions  of  the  play  this  is,  we  are  warranted,  I  think,  in 
regarding  this  passage  as  another  probable  insertion. 

The  last  scene  of  the  second  act,  since  I  am  proceeding  backward, 
is  one  which  has  been  challenged  by  Mr.  Authur  Symons.^"  It  is  the 
scene  in  which  Marcus  finds  the  ravished  and  mutilated  Lavinia  in  the 
woods,  and  I  wholly  agree  that  Shakespeare  did  not  write  it.  Its  purpose 
is  merely  to  emphasize  the  pathetic  appeal  for  the  sake  of  the  sensation, 
and  it  is  just  what  a  less  inspired  reviser  of  the  play  could  and  would 
insert. 

Just  objection  has  been  made,  also,  to  Lavinia's  unwomanly  (and 
uncharacteristic)  insulting  of  Tamora  immediately  before  her  ravish- 
ment, though  Mr.  Baildon  defends  her  for  it.  Mr.  Robertson  is  right, 
I  think,  in  noting  that  it  is  characteristic  of  the  school  to  which  Greene 
and  Peele  belonged  to  justify  such  suffering  as  Lavinia's  by  giving  to 
it  the  character  of  retribution  f^  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  revisers 
of  the  play  added  this  (to  them)  essential  touch. 

"Englische  Studien,  1896,  p.  414- 

="  Introduction  to  the  Facsimile  of  the  Quarto  of  1600. 

"  Op.  cit.,  217. 


AUTHORSHIP    OF      TITUS    ANDRONICUS   — GRAY  I25 

This  same  principle  of  dramatic  art  (which  Shakespeare  was  always 
too  true  a  dramatist  to  observe)  accounts,  I  believe,  for  the  last  passage 
I  shall  mention  as  probably  the  work  of  the  revisers.  The  central  portion 
of  the  first  act,  from  line  275  to  line  390,  is  much  inferior  to  the  rest,  is 
crowded  with  many  of  the  evidences  of  the  un-Shakespearian  character 
of  the  play,  and  contains  none  of  the  characteristic  passages.  It  is  here 
that  we  are  shown  Titus  killing  his  youngest  son,  Mutius,  and  at  first 
refusing  him  burial.  We  are  wholly  out  of  sympathy  with  Titus  in  all  this  ; 
the  only  excuse  for  it  is  to  make  his  sufferings  more  deserved.  With  this 
goes  the  weak  and  ineffectual  bit  ("brainless,"  Mr.  Symons  calls  it),  in 
which  Bassianus  seizes  Lavinia,  which  provoked  the  quarrel.  This  was 
no  doubt  merely  narrated  in  Shakespeare's  original  version,  as  is  the 
fact  of  the  killing  of  Mutius,  in  lines  417,  418. 

And  this  leads  me  finally  to  a  brief  consideration  of  the  nature  of 
these  possible  insertions  when  taken  all  together,  and  of  the  play  as  it 
would  appear  with  these  omitted.  If  I  am  reasonably  near  the  truth  in 
my  conjectures,  we  should  be  able  to  identify  the  methods  and  the  aims 
of  the  revisers  in  endeavoring  to  make  Shakespeare's  play  more  accept- 
able to  their  employers  and  their  public.  The  passages  I  have  indicated 
show  (i)  a  desire  to  make  the  tragedy  more  expHcit ;  (2)  a  tendency  to 
dwell  on  the  pathetic ;  (3)  an  attempt  to  add  to  the  variety  of  the  action, 
and  consequently  (4)  a  humorous  treatment  of  the  villain;  (5)  a  delib- 
erate justification  of  the  sufferings  of  the  good  characters;  and  (6)  the 
working-out  of  suggestions  already  in  the  play. 

The  last  point  is  particularly  noticeable.  Given  a  finished  drama  to 
revise,  one  is  thrown  back  upon  the  play  itself  for  his  material.  Aaron's 
bastard  child  would  naturally  suggest  a  possible  scene  in  which  he 
should  receive  it  of  the  nurse ;  Titus's  banquet  to  Tamora  and  her  sons, 
upon  which  the  army  of  Lucius  was  to  come,  would  suggest  to  a  man 
like  Greene  the  transferring  of  the  sons  from  the  position  of  guests  to 
that  of  menu;  this  would  involve  Titus's  knowledge  of  their  crime, 
which  we  therefore  find  revealed  in  Greene's  characteristic  manner ;  and 
it  is  so,  throughout. 

The  play  of  Titus  Andronicus  without  these  accretions  would  still 
be  a  tragedy-of-blood,  and  by  no  means  a  pleasant  piece  to  read ;  but 
it  would  certainly  not  be  unworthy  of  Shakespeare  in  his  earliest  period. 
It  is  only  when  we  judge  it  in  the  light  of  his  greatest  tragedies,  as  Mr. 
Barrett  Wendell  says,^^  that  we  feel  it  to  be  so  unworthy  of  Shake- 
speare.    It  is  infinitely  finer  than  any  tragedy  of  Greene  or  Peele. 


William  Shakespeare,  67. 


126  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

In  this  attempt  to  separate  the  later  additions  from  the  play  as 
Shakespeare  originally  wrote  it  (if  my  theory  is  right),  I  have  confined 
myself  to  the  larger  and  more  striking  instances,  and  indeed  I  have  not 
been  able  to  satisfy  myself  at  every  point.  I  am  disconcerted  especially 
when  the  double  endings  are  numerous  in  a  passage  which  on  other 
accounts  seems  to  belong  to  the  revisers ;  but  it  is  to  be  remembered 
that  these  men  were  peculiarly  prone  to  imitation,  and  in  revising  a  play 
they  would  be  especially  inclined  to  write  their  portions  as  nearly  as 
possible  in  the  style  of  the  rest.  Kyd  in  translating  the  Cornelia  and 
Marlowe  in  translating  Lucan  are  at  once  attracted  by  the  French  and 
Latin  verse  to  an  employment  of  the  double  ending  far  in  excess  of  their 
usual  custom ;  and  Greene  and  Peele,  who  were,  I  believe,  the  revisers 
of  Titus,  were  much  more  impressionable  and  susceptible  to  influence 
than  were  Kyd  and  Marlowe.  What  has  added  most  to  the  difficulty  of 
my  task  is  the  facility  and  ready  imitativeness  of  these  men  (if  I  am 
right  in  supposing  that  they  did  it),  and  also  the  thoroughness  with  which 
the  task  was  done;  Titus  Andronicus  as  it  now  stands  was  no  hasty 
patchwork  of  a  journeyman  playwright,  but  a  most  careful  reconstruc- 
tion by  men  of  considerable  genius.  In  substituting  a  scene  of  their 
own  for  one  of  Shakespeare's,  they  would  naturally  incorporate  any 
lines  or  passages  in  the  rejected  scene  which  appealed  to  them,  and 
which  they  could  make  convenient  use  of ;  nor  would  they  hesitate  to 
rewrite  any  of  the  other  scenes,  for  of  course  they  thought  their  own 
ability  vastly  superior  to  that  of  this  unknown  young  man,  and  we  who 
think  dififerently  must  pay  the  penalty. 

There  can  be,  then,  but  little  value  in  pointing  to  a  word  or  phrase 
as  one  used  frequently  by  Greene  or  as  singing  the  cadence  of  Peele ; 
it  is  only  by  the  prevailing  tone  and  not  by  an  occasional  identity  or 
similarity  of  expression  that  we  are  warranted  in  judging.  "Esthetic" 
criticism  has  been  scornfully  condemned  as  amounting  to  no  more  than 
individual  impression ;  but  literary  criticism  is  an  art  as  well  as  a  science, 
and  those  who  cannot  see  the  woods  for  the  trees  are  apt  to  be  no  better 
off  (and  no  better  natured)  than  their  rivals. 


THE  HITTITE  TEXT  ON  THE  TARCONDEMUS  BOSS 

George  Hempl 

IT  MAY  be  proper,  by  way  of  introduction,  to  state  that  it  is  not  my 
present  purpose  to  edit  a  number  of  pictographic  Hitti'te  texts,  or 
to  present  anything  like  a  treatise  on  Hittite  pictographic  writing.  My 
object  is  to  deal  with  the  Tarcondemus  Boss  only,  this  being  the  gen- 
erally recognized  key  to  the  pictographic  texts.  But  in  presenting  for 
interpretation  a  brief  specimen  of  an  unread  tongue,  one  immediately 
finds  himself  embarrassed  by  the  necessity  of  introducing  other  specimens 
by  way  of  illustration  or  corroboration.  This  renders  the  presentation 
of  the  subject  more  or  less  complex  and  involved,  which  is  to  be  regretted 
but  can  not  be  avoided.  For  I  deem  it  necessary  to  show  that  the  graphic 
and  phonological  features  involved  in  my  explanation  of  the  Tarcon- 
demus Boss  are  general  and  normal;  that  is,  that  they  are  not  peculiar 
to  this  document,  and  therefore  possibly  adventitious  or  fortuitous  and 
thus  without  conclusive  force.  If  the  illustrative  material  thus  intro- 
duced has  independent  intrinsic  value,  so  much  the  better;  but  I  do  not 
introduce  it  here  for  its  own  sake.  I  aim  to  present  nothing  about  which 
I  feel  uncertain.  When  we  consider,  however,  the  pioneer  character  of 
the  work  and  the  fact  that  I  am  not  a  professional  Hellenist,  it  can  not 
be  expected  that  I  have  avoided  errors,  and  I  shall  welcome  correction. 
In  justice  to  myself  I  may  add  that  up  to  two  months  ago,  when  I  got 
access  to  the  Corpus,^  my  work  was  necessarily  based  upon  the  imperfect 
texts  in  Wright's  and  Conder's  books.  I  hope,  however,  that  no  traces 
of  this  remain.  All  explanations  that  I  present  of  Hittite  characters  or 
words  I  alone  am  responsible  for,  unless  the  contrary  is  expressly  stated. 
Still,  it  is  easy  to  deceive  one's  self  in  such  a  matter,  and  one  may  at  any 
time  stumble  upon  an  anticipation  of  what  he  supposed  had  originated 
with  himself.  The  literature  of  the  subject  is  extensive  and  in  many 
cases  difficult  to  get  at.  A  large  part  of  it,  including  most  of  the  publi- 
cations of  the  various  oriental  societies,  is  inaccessible  to  me.  In  dealins; 
with  the  Tarcondemus  Boss  I  have  had  two  aims  in  view :  first,  to  expose 
the  unsatisfactory  character  of  previous  interpretations ;  and  secondly, 
to  make  clear  the  true  nature  of  the  legend.     The  Tarcondemus  Boss 


128  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

was  the  first  bit  of  Hittite  that  I  succeeded  in  reading.  This  was  at  the 
close  of  1912.  Later  I  deciphered  other  pictographic  texts,  and  then 
various  cuneiform  texts.  I  hope  at  no  distant  date  to  publish  further 
Hittite  studies,  but  I  shall  have  to  defer  doing  so  until  I  have  brought 
out  my  long  delayed  reports  on  Venetic,  Etruscan,  and  Minoan. 

I.  Until  comparatively  recently,  the  Hittites  were  known  only  as 
one  of  the  many  peoples  in  or  near  Palestine.  We  now  know,^  chiefly 
through  Egyptian  and  Assyrian  sources,  that  the  Hittites  of  the  Bible 
were  but  the  last  remnants  of  a  great  people  who  once  held  sway  over 
Asia  Minor,  Syria,  and  northern  Mesopotamia.  Their  original  and 
greatest  capital  was  at  Pteria  (§8),  the  present  Boghaz  Keui,  in  northern 
Cappadocia,  near  Tavium,  that  is,  east  of  north-central  Asia  Minor,  and 
they  were  at  the  zenith  of  their  power  from  2000  to  icxx)  B.  C.  This, 
it  will  be  remembered,  was  the  millennium  preceding  the  coming  up  of 
the  Hebrews  out  of  Egypt.  In  1907  Winckler  shov/ed  ^  that  a  new  Hittite 
dynasty  arose  about  1400  B.  C. ;  and  in  191 3  I  observed  ^  that  this  marked 
the  conquest  of  the  Javonian  Hittites  by  Dorians,  who  assumed  the  name 
of  the  people  they  had  conquered,  much  as  the  German  conquerors  of 
the  Slavic  Prussians  called  themselves  Prussians.  We,  thus,  have  to 
distinguish  between  the  earlier  Javonian  Hittites  and  the  later  Doric 
Hittites.  The  Javonian  Hittites  were  akin  to  other  Javonians,  namely 
the  Minoans,  the  Athenians,  and  the  lonians ;  while  the  Doric  Hittites 
were  distant  cousins  of  the  Dorians  of  Greek  history.*  In  the  Bible  the 
Javonians  are  represented  by  Javan,  grandson  of  Noah.  We  must  also 
distinguish  between  the  Hittites  proper,  whose  physiognomy,  as  well  as 

'  The  reader  who  is  not  familiar  with  tlie  present  status  of  the  Hittite  question 
would  do  well  to  read  Hogarth's  excellent  articles  (Hittites,  Pteria)  in  the  new 
Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  volumes  13  and  22.  For  a  more  extended  treatment,  he 
will  find  very  satisfactory  Garstang's  The  Land  of  the  Hittites,  Constable  &  Co., 
London,  1910.  ^  Mitteilungen  der  Deutschen  Orient-Gesellschaft,  1907,  35/i7- 

^  Transactions  of  the  American  Philological  Association,  44/190. 

"Hempl,  Hittite  Greek,  The  Nation,  New  York,  September  9,  1915.  On  the 
publication  of  this  communication  I  received  a  letter  from  Professor  Bates  of  the 
University  of  Pennsylvania,  in  which  he  wrote :  "I  have  wondered  whether  you  were 
acquainted  with  von  Luschan's  theory  of  the  Hittites.  He  thinks  that  anthropology 
proves  that  the  Hittites  and  the  Dorian  Greeks,  that  is,  the  black-haired  Greeks, 
are  one  and  the  same  race ;  that,  in  fact,  the  black-haired  Greek  of  today  is  Hittite. 
If  I  remember  rightly  he  regards  the  light-haired  Greek  (the  type  of  the  Hermes 
of  Praxiteles)  as  Ionian."  This  is  all  that  has  come  to  me  of  von  Luschan's  views 
on  this  subject.  If  his  theory  is  correct,  it  may  furnish  an  explanation  of  the  term 
"White  Syrians,"  which  Strabo  applies  to  the  Cappadocian  Hittites.  Still,  this 
expression  might  have  arisen  in  contrasting  Hittites  generally  with  non-Hellenic 
peoples  of  Syria.     However  that  might  be,  it  would  appear  that  in  Pteria  and  its 


THE   TARCONDEMUS    BOSS HEMPL  I29 

their  speech,  declares  them  to  be  Greeks,  and  the  various  subject  peoples, 
ranging  from  Semites  to  Mongolians,  who  helped  to  make  up  their 
armies  and  are  depicted  on  Egyptian  temple  walls.  I  can  not  here  enter 
into  a  discussion  of  the  question  by  what  route  the  Hittites  came  to  Asia 
Minor.  I  should  say,  however,  that  I  see  much  that  favors  and  nothing 
that  militates  against  the  idea  that  they  came  across  the  Hellespont,  as 
the  Phrygians  and  other  Indo-Europeans  did.  The  reader  will  find  of 
interest  in  this  connection  the  sixth  chapter  of  Garstang's  The  Land  of 
the  Hittites} 

2.  The  records  of  the  Hittites  have  come  down  to  us  in  two  forms: 
the  native  pictographic  writing,  found  mostly  on  seals  and  stone  monu- 
ments ;  and  the  foreign  cuneiform  writing,  in  which  the  state  documents 
etc.  of  the  Doric  Hittites  were  written,  on  clay  tablets.  In  this  paper 
I  shall  concern  myself  with  the  former  only.  Preliminary  reports  on 
cuneiform  Hittite  will  be  found  in  a  paper  published  in  the  Transactions 
of  the  American  Philological  Association  for  1913,  44/185-214,=  and 
in  the  communication  to  The  Nation  just  cited. 

3.  For  many  years  various  scholars  have  striven,  with  untiring  zeal, 
to  decipher  the  Hittite  pictographic  texts;  but  Messerschmidt,  the  la- 
mented editor  of  the  Corpus  Inscriptionum  Hetticarum,^  writing  in  1903, 
expressed  it  as  his  opinion  that  all  had  been  without  avail,  and  that  no 
Hittite  characters  had  been  correctly  deciphered  except  the  sign  of 
divinity  (§  36).  In  this  harsh  judgment  on  the  devoted  labors  of  my 
predecessors  I  am  reluctantly  compelled  to  concur.*-^  They  overlooked 
the  obvious  and  fancied  the  task  far  more  complicated  and  difficult  than 
it  was.  For  Hittite  writing  is  comparatively  simple  and  offers  no  insur- 
mountable difficulty  to  one  who  attempts  to  read  it  as  Greek. 

neighborhood,  that  is,  in  the  original  Hittite  state,  the  earlier  Javonian  ultimately 
prevailed  over  the  intruding  Doric,  much  as  the  English  prevailed  over  the  Norman 
in  England.  It  is  significant  that,  vi^hile  QaxoCOd,  the  Doric  form  of  Qxiqia  (§  8), 
prevailed  in  the  east  and  appears  in  Egyptian  and  Semitic  speech  as  Kfatiu  (not 
"K[e]ftiu"),  Kf[a]t{a]r,  Kp[a]tar,  Cp[a]tar,  Caphtor;  Pitru,  Pethor;  and 
Kh[e]ta/Kh[a]ta,  Khate,  Khatti,  Heth,  Hitti(m)  (Xet,  Xexteih)  ;  nevertheless,  a 
pure  Javonian  form  must  have  been  the  basis  of  nxeoCTi,  the  spelling  employed  by 
Herodotus.  ^ -f- bilabial  /  (written  /  or  p)  and  ^/j/%  are  excellent  approximate 
substitutes  for  a  foreign  q  or  cyjr;  see  §  11.  The  p  of  Pitru/Pethor  represents  the 
Greek  development  of  q  to  k,  as  in  kztqoc,. 

"  I  shall  have  frequent  occasion  to  refer  to  this  paper  and  shall  do  so  with 
the  abbreviation  TAPA. 

*  Mitteilungen  der  Vorderasiatischen  Gesellschaft,  1900,  1902,  1906.  I  shall 
refer  to  the  Corpus  by  means  of  the  abbreviation  CIH.,  adding  I  and  II  to  designate 
the  supplements  (I,  1902;   II,  1906),  and  referring  to  the  plates,  not  the  pages. 

*■*  See,  however,  §  7,  14. 


130  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

4.  The  Hittite  pictographs  were,  originally,  crude  pictures  of  fa- 
miliar objects.  Some  of  these,  in  spite  of  long  use,  retained  a  clear  like- 
ness to  the  object  depicted;  others  gradually  lost  their  identity,  being 
rapidly  made  with  two  or  three  strokes  that  are  a  poor  reminder  of  the 
original  outlines.    For  example — 

hands  arm  foot      leg     face    dove  chair        jars 

are  clear.     But  one  does  not  at  once  realize  that  characters  such  as 


are  degenerate  forms  (§  14)  of  pictures  of  an  arm,  a  ram,  and  a  face. 
In  fact,  most  of  the  characters  are  more  or  less  puzzling.  The  greatest 
difficulty  is  met  in  identifying  objects  unfamihar  to  us;    for  example — 


R 


and  still  others  as  outlandish  looking.  Moreover,  the  student  who  knows 
the  stones  only  from  the  transcriptions  of  others  has  the  great  disad- 
vantage of  not  being  sure  of  the  exact  form  of  some  objects ;  for  dif- 
ferent observers  copy  them  so  differently  that,  for  example,  what  in  one 
writer's  transcript  appears  as  a  wing  reappears  in  that  of  another  as  a 
rabbit's  head.  Moreover,  the  same  object  may  be  differently  depicted, 
for  example,  the  hand  and  the  jar,  as  seen  above. 

5.  The  pictographs  do  not  face  in  the  direction  in  which  they  run, 
as  our  letters  do,  but  look  back,  toward  the  beginning  of  the  word,  as 
though  we  were  to  print — 

TH3     OAT    qgjj    Om    TH3    W00aSIJ3. 

They  are  usually  written  in  a  little  column,  one  below  the  other,  begin- 
ning at  the  top;  as  though  we  were  to  print  the  words  THIS  IS  MY  BOOK 
in  the   following  fashion — 


T 

1 

a 

B 

1 

T 

H 
1 

8 

M 

0 
0 

or 

0 
0 

S 
M 

H 

1 

8 

Y 

>i 

K 

Y 

S 

Often  such  a  column  contains  just  one  word,  but  by  no  means  uniformly. 


THE   TARCONDEMUS    BOSS HEMPL  I3I 

These  little  columns  are  arranged  in  a  row  and  correspond,  in  a  way,  to 
the  lines  on  a  page  that  has  been  tipped  over  on  its  right  side.  In  the 
first  row  of  such  little  columns  the  writing  usually  begins  at  the  top  of 
the  right-hand  column,  runs  to  the  foot  of  the  column,  and  continues  at 
the  top  of  the  column  at  the  left,  etc.,  etc.  In  the  second  row  of  columns 
the  writing  starts  at  the  top  of  the  column  that  stands  just  below  the  last 
column  of  the  preceding  row,  that  is,  at  the  left,  and  continues,  column 
after  column,  to  the  right,  zigzagging  back  and  forth,  sometimes  irregu- 
larly.   Thus  usually  in  the  following  order — 


20 

16 

12 

9 

5 

I 

21 

17 

13 

10 

6 

2 

22 

18 

14 

II 

7 

3 

19 

15 

8 

4 

23 

27 

31 

34 

38 

41 

24 

28 

32 

35 

39 

42 

25 

29 

33 

36 

40 

43 

26 

30 

37 

48 

49 
50 
etc. 

44 

45 
46 

47 

Compare  the  inscription  on  page  145.  But  in  discussing  Hittite  w^ords 
and  inscriptions  it  is  found  easier  to  arrange  the  pictographs  as  we  do 
our  letters,  that  is,  to  have  them  run  uniformly  from  left  to  right,  in 
lines ;   and  I  shall  follow  this  practice. 

6.  In  citing  a  Greek  word,  I  aim  to  employ  the  form  familiar  to 
us  in  extant  Greek  texts,  usually  the  Attic ;  but  with  two  exceptions. 
When  it  is  necessary  to  indicate  the  Doric  character  of  a  word  or  to  call 
attention  to  the  fact  that  the  earlier  form  differed  from  the  familiar  form, 
I  do  so.  Compare  JieSia  (§  42/2,  5,  5.1)  for  the  later  mt,a;  toag  (§59) 
for  the  familiar  tetQag,  In  archaic  forms  (like  :ie8ia)  and  in  all  Doric 
forms  (like  nz't,a)  I  refrain  from  placing  accent  marks,  except  in  those 
cases  where  the  accent  can  be  given  with  confidence  and  there  is  some 
phonological  reason  for  indicating  its  divergence  from  Attic  accent. 
Compare  §  8.''  In  phonetic  transcriptions  I  follow  the  practice  of  modern 
phonetists  in  placing  the  sign  of  stress  (^)  before  the  stressed  syllable. 
See  §61.  In  transcribing  cuneiform  I  use  k  for  h  with  subscript  curl, 
and  k  for  k  with  subscript  dot. 


'For  Doric  accent,  see  Thumb,  Handbuch  der  griechischen  Dialckte,  78  etc. 


132  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

7.  To  Sayce's  ^  identification  of  the  sign  of  divinity,  more  correctly 
of  supremacy   (§3,  36),  should  be  added  the  identification  of  the  sign 

D€    by  Peiser,^  and  of  or     \    by  Thompson.^''     In  explaining  the 

use  of  these  characters  I  am  forced  to  present  my  interpretation  and 
translation  of  the  accompanying  pictographs  and  thus  to  anticipate  to 
some  extent  what  I  shall  deal  with  more  fully  farther  on,  §  34  etc. 

(i)  The  sign  0(S  or  HL  is  used  (in  some  texts  much  more 
freely  than  in  others)  to  indicate  the  beginning  of  a  word.  For  example, 
the  hand  or  arm  X^I'iq],  when  used  to  spell  the  monosyllable  qe  (the 
later  Greek  te,  Latin  que  'and,'  §  35)  is  often  separated  from  the  adjoin- 
ing words  by  this  sign  of  division,  thus — 

This  is  especially  true  if  the  following  word  also  begins  with  a  velar  or 
labial  consonant.  The  sign  of  division  thus  prevents  the  arm  from  being 
taken  as  one  of  several  spellings  of  a  following  q  (§11),  or  for  a  part 
of  a  polysyllabic  word,  as  in  arm  —  ternion,  xeL^p] — TQidg  =  QetQiag 
(§  7/2).  Even  under  these  conditions,  repetition  and  separation  rendered 
the  sign  unnecessary,  as  in  §  35. 

11  " 

(2)  The  bar  U  ,  often  stunted  to  ,  may  precede  a  name  or 
title,  as  in  cuneiform  writing;  thus  in  the  first  and  second  lines  of  the 
inscription  on  the  Marash  Lion  ^^  we  find — 


W'f^      \lv 


CD 


C=:£3       = 


o 


TQaqov ,  dxQO  qexQC 

Traqon ,  the  great  king,'  §  8  etc.,  34  etc.,  44,  45. 


*  Transactions  of  the  Society  of  Biblical  Archaeology,  1882,  7/255.  I  shall 
have  frequent  occasion  to  refer  to  the  Transactions  and  Proceedings  of  the  Society 
of  Biblical  Archaeology  and  shall  do  so  with  the  abbreviations  TSBA.  and  PSBA. 

*  Die  Hettitischen  Inschriften,  1892. 

"/i  New  Decipherment  of  the  Hittite  Inscriptions,  Archaeologia,  1913, 
64/19  etc.  "  CIH.  I.  21. 


THE    TARCONDEMUS    BOSS — IlEMPL  133 

Or  it  may  be  attached  obliquely  to  one  of  the  characters  spelling  the 
word;  see  the  form  of  this  same  king's  name  as  it  appears  in  §41. 
The  oblique  bar  usually  appears  attached  to  a  vertical  element  of  the 
pictograph,  thus —  , — 1  /\    12 

foot  —  loop,  Ji88[ia] — TQo[jir|], 
=  qETeo(g)   'king/ 
and — 

arm  —  ternion,  Xs[iq]  —  XQidq, 
=  QcTQiag  'of  Pteria.' 

For  qe-  spelled  xe-,  ite-,  etc.,  see  §  11.  Both  forms  of  the  bar,  as  well  as 
the  mark  of  division,  are  well  illustrated  on  the  Tell  Ahmar  Stele."-^ 

foot  —  loop  —  handle     foot  —  ternion 

jt£8[ia] — tQo[jrr|] — (bg     jr86[ia] — XQidg 

=  qexQOC,  QsTQiag  'king  of  Pteria.' 

8.  This  QeTQiag/QaxQiag  is  the  genitive  of  original  Hittite  Qtegia 
(later  UxeQia,  Ionic  nteQiTi),  Doric  Hittite  QaTe(i)d/*  that  is,  Pteria, 
the  name  of  the  Hittite  capital,  as  also  of  the  whole  empire  (§1).  The 
words  qsTQO?  QexQiaq  'king  of  Pteria'  (§  34,  35,  3^)  are  found  one  or 
more  times  on  nearly  every  stone  (§  40)  ;  and  there  are  many  ways  of 
spelHng  the  two  words  (§9,  10). 

9.  q8TQo(g)  'king'  is  by  far  the  most  common  word  in  the  inscrip- 
tions.   Typical  spellings  are — 

leg  —  loop,  Jt85[ia] — TQo[jtri]  ==qETQO,  CIH.  2/5, 
leg  —  loop  ^°  — handle,  mb  —  xqo  —  wg  =  q8TQog,  CIH.  I.  19/1, 
hand  —  foot  —  loop,  x^V^Q]/^^^  —  TQO  =  qeTQO,  CIH.  I.  10/7, 
hand  —  foot  —  quaternion  —  loop,    X^A^^  —  XQa[g]/xQO    =    qexQO, 
CIH.  I.  10/4, 

arrow  —  grubs —  %fi[Aov]  — T8Q[ii56v8g]/ 

^,ing  —  foot  —  prow,  nxeQ[v^]/mb[ia]  — 3rea)i[Qa],  CIH.  i, 

^IH.  I.  21/6.  "  CIH.  I.  10/3. 

''■^Liverpool  Annals,  2,  plate  38/3.  The  figure  of  the  handle  (§42/2)  is 
mutilated.  ^*TAPA.  44/195.     See  also  the  close  of  foot-note*  above. 


134 


FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 


the  last  being  fine  specimens  of  Hittite  cumulative  writing  (§  12).  foot/ 
leg,  §42/2;  loop,  §42/1;  handle,  §42/2;  ass,  §64;  quaternion, 
§  59;  gruhs,  §47;  pro'w,%  10,  end.  For  other  spellings  of  qETeo(g),  see 
§  42.     For  the  spelling  of  q,  see  §  li. 

10.  The  following  are  typical  spellings  of  QteQia,  OaxQiag  (§8)  — 

bird  —  lyre,  jitsq [cov]  —  la[|ip\jxTi] /''•^ 

feather  —  lyre,  jrT£Q[6v]  — la[npuxri]  ;"-2 

country  —  ternion,  ya  —  TQidg/^ 

jar — ternion,  xe [90^05]  — TQidg/^ 

wing  —  ternion,  nxiglv'E,]  /xQidc,,^^ 

arrow — ternion,  xfi[7.ov]  — TQidg/^ 

arrow  —  arm  —  ternion,  xf) [kov] /x^[iq]  —  TQidg,^° 

jar  —  penis — ternion,  'Ki[Qa\ioc,]/TiE[og]  — TQidg," 

jar  —  grubs  —  ternion,  x8[Qa|iog]  —  xEQ[y\b6ve(;]/xQid';,^^ 

Compare  also — 

penis  —  proii',  jte[og]  — jtQtoi[Qa]/  j  cumulative  spelling  (§  12)  of 
comb  —  prow,  xx[tig]  —  JiQa)i[QaJ     )  qexQO, 

arrow  —  grubs — ternion,  xfi[>iOv]  —  T8Q[Ti66vEg]/T9idg  =  QexQiaq, 
that  is,  qETQog  QEXpiag  'king  of  Pteria,'  CIH.  8/2.  This  use  of  ;tQa)i[Qa] 
(alone  or  with  a  6/t  word)  to  spell  xqo  is  a  case  of  inexact  spelling 
(§13),  frequent  in  certain  texts,  cf.  §  9,  last  example. 

11.  As  will  be  observed,  labiovelars  (q,  p)  could  be  spelled  with  one 
or  more  velars,  with  one  or  more  labials,  or  with  a  velar  and  a  labial, 
as  well  as  with  a  labiovelar,  §7.1.  On  the  other  hand,  a  pure  velar 
could  be  spelled  with  a  labiovelar  ( §  48),  as  well  as  with  a  velar.  See  §  13. 
The  voiceless  labiovelar  stop  (q)  occurs  in  many  English  words,  like 
quit  (=qit)  ;  and  the  corresponding  voiced  labiovelar  stop  (p)  is  found 
in  adopted  words  like  Guido  (=^9'idd).  The  labiovelar  stops  are  gen- 
erally analysed  as,  and  actually  vary  with  the  pure  velar  stops  {c,  g) 
followed  by  the  corresponding  labiovelar  fricatives  (^}r,  iv,  as  in  what 
and  war)  :  q/cylr/cw  and  p/gw.  German  qu  is  not  the  labiovelar  stop 
q,  but  spells  the  pure  velar  stop  c  +  the  bilabial  (  0/^  )  or  the  denti- 
labial if/v)  fricative. 

12.  Sayce  made  the  important  observation  that  Hittite  was  prone 
to  the  use  of  variant  and  cumulative  ( §  9,  10)  writing ;   that  is,  as  seen 


"•'Perrot  and  Chipiez   (see  foot-note"),  2/68. 

"•'  Perrot  and  Chipiez,  2/71. 

«  CIH.  I.  21/5,  CIH.  40/12.     See  also  §  35.  "  CIH.  1/3. 

"C/H.  22;   CIH.  I.  19/16.  ''CIH.  I.  15/2,  21/6. 

«  CIH.  II.  49/5.  "'  CIH.  6/3. 

"^CIH.  2/1;    CIH.  I.  21/1,  2,  5  (twice)  ;    CIH.  II.  52/1,  5- 


THE   TARCONDEMUS    BOSS  —  HEMPL  I35 

above,  the  same  word  may  be  written  in  various  ways,  more  or  less  alike 
or  wholly  different ;  and  the  same  sound  or  group  of  sounds  may  be 
spelled  more  than  once,  that  is,  by  two  or  more  characters  representing 
the  same  or  similar  sounds.  When  transcribing  into  ordinary  Greek 
letters,  it  is  well  to  separate  cumulative  spellings  by  /  rather  than  — . 
Thus  yiz/mh  —  xQa/xQO  (§9),  in  which  fji/nz  spells  qe,  and  TQa/tpo 
spells  TQO.  Cumulative  spellings  of  a  simple  consonant,  for  example  6/t 
in  Jie6 — tga,  do  not  need  to  be  pointed  out  in  this  way. 

13.  Hittite  scribes,  Hke  Minoan  scribes,  made  no  attempt  to  attain 
exactness  of  phonology.-*  In  fact,  this  is,  for  the  most  part,  quite  out  of 
the  question  in  iconomatic  writing  (§  15).  Thus,  for  example,  if  English 
were  to  be  written  iconomatically,  such  a  word  as  big  would  have  to  be 
spelled  with  the  picture  of  a  pig,  a  pick,  or  a  bird's  beak,  none  of 
which  represents  hig  exactly.  This  is  a  matter  that  the  reader  who  is 
accustomed  to  alphabetic  writing  only,  must  fix  in  mind  and  not  forget. 

14.  To  Sayce  and  Thompson  credit  is  due  for  the  good  service  they 
rendered  in  identifying  various  obscure  cursive  forms  with  their  more 
pictographic  originals,  §  4. 

15.  The  chief  error  under  which  nearly  all  Hittite  scholars  have 
labored  is  the  assumption  that  Hittite  pictographic  writing  is  largely,  if 
not  wholly,  ideographic  (§  16),  whereas  it  is  chiefly  iconomatic  (§  17). 
Thus  Sayce  says  : — 

"As  a  rule  it  is  only  the  suffixes  that  are  expressed  phonetically,  the 
roots  or  stems  of  the  words  being  denoted  by  ideographs.  It  is  but  sel- 
dom that  the  latter  are  written  phonetically  or  that  the  ideographs  de- 
noting them  are  accompanied  by  their  phonetic  equivalents."  -^ 

Exactly  the  same  mistake  was  made  by  Evans  with  reference  to  Minoan 
pictographic  writing.  It  is  strange  that  scholars  should  have  been  misled 
in  this  way.  Ideographic  writing  is  the  most  primitive  form  of  writing. 
To  be  sure,  it  is  conceivable  that  peoples  having  civilizations  as  highly 
developed  as  the  Minoan  and  Hittite  civilizations,  might  in  the  matter  of 
writing  have  made  little  or  no  progress  beyond  the  most  primitive  stage. 
But  the  probabilities  would  all  be  to  the  contrary,  and  the  assumption 
should  certainly  not  have  been  made  without  some  warrant. 

16.  In  ideographic  writing,  each  pictograph  represents  and  is  in- 
tended to  arouse  in  the  mind  of  the  reader  the  idea  of  the  object  depicted. 
Thus,  pictures  of  a  bee,  a  boy,  and  a  cottage  appearing  in  ideographic 


For  striking  illustrations  of  this,  see  §  10,  §  42/5  and  5.2. 
The  Hittites,  5th  ed.,  133. 


136  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

writing  would  make  it  certain  that  the  text  had  something  to  say  about 
a  bee,  a  boy,  and  a  cottage.  Such  a  text  can  be  read  equally  well  by 
people  speaking  different  languages,  and  the  reader  may  be  wholly 
ignorant  of  the  language  of  the  writer.  To  me  it  would  seem  that  the 
explanation  of  the  fact  that  scholars  have  so  readily  assumed  that  Hittite 
and  Minoan  were  written  ideographically  lies  in  the  temptation  to  try 
one's  hand  at  reading  the  texts  without  being  burdened  with  the  task 
of  identifying  the  language  employed. 

17.  In  iconomatic  writing  a  pictograph  is  intended  to  suggest  to 
the  mind  of  the  reader  only  the  name  of  the  object  depicted.  Thus,  in 
an  English  text  written  iconomatically,  the  pictographs  of  a  bee,  a  boy, 
and  a  cottage  might  spell  the  English  words  bee,  boy,  cottage,  but  they 
could  just  as  readily  be  used  to  spell  the  words  be  and  boycot.  In  order 
to  read  a  text  written  iconomatically,  one  must  be  acquainted  with  the 
particular  language  in  which  it  is  written.  It  is  true  that  iconomatic 
writing  is  an  outgrowth  of  ideographic  writing,  also  that  it  often  retains 
ideographic  elements,  much  as  some  lexicographers  use  small  pictures 
to  designate  certain  categories  of  words.  Still,  the  difference  between 
ideographic  writing  and  iconomatic  writing  is  world-wide,  and  the  attempt 
to  read  an  iconomatic  text  as  an  ideographic  text  could  result  only  in 
confessed  defeat  (the  "blank  wall"  that  Sayce  speaks  of,  see  §  26  below) 
or  in  the  construction  of  a  maze  of  fanciful  inventions. 

18.  Conder's  treatment  -*'  of  Hittite  was  based  on  a  theory  once  held 
by  Sayce,-^  Taylor,-^  and  Wright,^^  namely,  that  Cyprian  syllabic  writ- 
ing ^°  was  an  outgrowth  of  Hittite  script  and,  therefore,  throws  light  on 
the  latter.  But  Cyprian  syllabic  writing,  as  I  shall  show  at  another  time, 
is  a  sister  of  the  Minoan  syllabic  writing  out  of  which  the  Greek  alphabet 
arose. ^^  There  could,  therefore,  be  no  direct  relationship  between  Hittite 
writing  and  Cyprian  writing.  This  does  not,  of  course,  preclude  the 
possibility  of  remote  indirect  relationship;  for  it  is  not  improbable  that 
primitive  Minoan  pictographic  writing  was  related  to  primitive  Hittite 
pictographic  writing.  Both  peoples  used  the  arrow,  the  hand,  the  prow, 
and  perhaps  other  signs,^-  and  that  with  the  same  values.  But  the 
similarities  between  the  two  systems  are  of  a  general  character  and  may 
be  wholly  accidental.     I  have  not  observed  that  Conder  makes  any  asso- 

^  The  Hittites  and  their  Language,  Edinburgh,  1898. 

*'  TSBA.  5/31,  7/278.  "  The  Empire  of  the  Hittites,  126  etc. 

**  The  Alphabet,  2/123. 

''Thumb,  Handbuch  der  griechischen  Dialekte,  vii  and  285  etc. 

^"^  For  the  present,  see  Evans,  Scripta  Minoa,  1/68  etc. 

^  Evans,  Scripta  Minoa,  1/242-3. 


THE   TARCONDliMUS    BOSS 


HEM  PL 


137 


ciation  of  Hittite  and  Cyprian  signs  for  which  there  is  justification,  with 
the  one  exception  of  the  arroiv  xfjAov  (ce/ca),  §  10.  Where  Cyprian 
signs  fail  him,  he  freely  draws  upon  linear  Babylonian.  But  whether 
connecting  Hittite  characters  with  Cyprian  or  Babylonian,  Conder  is 
guided  wholly  by  similarity  of  form,  and  in  many  cases  it  takes  the  eye 
of  faith  to  discover  the  similarity.  He  thus  believes  he  has  found  in 
Hittite  a  Mongolian  tongue.  The  best  test  of  the  value  of  his  method 
is  the  careful  reading  of  a  portion  of  his  exposition.  It  may  safely  be 
asserted  that  there  probably  is  no  one  now  who  has  faith  in  Conder 's 
work. 


The  Tarcondemus  Boss 

showing  the  reverse  of  the  original. 

(W.  Wright,  The  Empire  of  the  Hittitcs,  156,  2d  ed.   165.) 

19.  The  three  scholars  who  are  regarded  as  having  made  the  most 
serious  attempts  to  read  Hittite  are  Professor  Sayce  ^*  of  Oxford,  Pro- 
fessor Jensen  ^^  of  Marburg,  and  R.  Campbell  Thompson."  It  has  long 
been  recognized  that  the  key  to  Hittite  speech  should  lie  in  the  successful 
interpretation  of  the  bilingual  text  on  the  Tarcondemus  Boss ;  and  this 
belief  has  never  been  abandoned  except  as  a  result  of  one's  failure  to 
decipher  the  text.  I  shall,  therefore,  present  in  this  paper  the  interpre- 
tations that  these  three  scholars  have  offered  of  the  legend  on  the  Boss, 
from  which  one  may  judge  their  methods  and  results. 

20.  In  criticizing  the  work  of  Professor  Sayce,  as  I  often  have  to 
do,  I  find  myself  in  a  very  embarrassing  situation.     What  he  has  done 


"  Sayce's  work  appeared  in  many  papers  published  chiefly  in  the  Transactions 
and  Proceedings  of  the  Society  of  Biblical  Archaeology,  especially  in  the  volumes 
for  1903,  1905,  1907;    also  in  his  little  book  The  Hittites,  chapter  VII. 

'^ Hittiter  und  Armenier,  1898. 


138  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

for  philological  science  is  almost  incalculable.  Wherever  one  goes,  even 
into  remote  corners  of  linguistic  knowledge,  one  finds  that  this  inde- 
fatigable worker  was  there  before  him.  And  nothing  that  Sayce  touches 
is  left  quite  as  dark  as  he  found  it.  But  one  can  not  shut  his  eyes  to 
the  defects  of  his  method,  or  fail  to  recognize  the  fact  that  they  are  not 
insignificant.  He  has  a  fertile  imagination,  without  which  no  one  can 
make  any  progress  whatever  in  the  decipherment  of  texts  like  the  Hittite. 
Still,  he  does  not  always  subject  his  ideas  to  rigid  scientific  tests,  but 
permits  himself  to  regard  as  proved  what  he  has  only  guessed  or  as- 
sumed, and  to  pass  on  from  one  unproved  theory  to  another.  While 
Hittite  scholars  will  always  be  under  deep  obligations  to  Professor  Sayce 
for  all  that  he  has  done  for  Hittite  studies  in  general,  it  is  only  just  to 
say  that  very  little  indeed  of  what  he  has  attempted  in  the  way  of  decipher- 
ing and  interpreting  the  Hittite  texts  has  permanent  value. 

21.  Sayce  says  ^"^ : — 

"The  story  of  the  boss  is  a  strange  one.  It  was  purchased  many 
years  ago  at  Smyrna  by  M.  Alexander  Jovanoff,  a  well-known  numis- 
matist of  Constantinople,  who  showed  it  to  the  Oriental  scholar  Dr.  A.  D. 
Mordtmann.  Dr.  Mordtmann  made  a  copy  of  it,  and  found  it  to  be  a 
round  silver  plate,  probably  the  pommel  of  a  dirk,  round  the  rim  of 
which  ran  a  cuneiform  text.  Within,  occupying  a  central  field,  was  the 
figure  of  a  warrior  in  a  new  and  unknown  style  of  art.  He  stood  erect, 
holding  a  spear  in  the  right  hand,  and  pressing  the  left  against  his 
breast.^®- ^  He  was  clothed  in  a  tunic,  over  which  a  fringed  cloak  was 
thrown ;  a  close-fitting  cap  was  on  the  head  and  boots  with  upturned 
ends  on  the  feet,  the  upper  part  of  the  legs  being  bare,  while  a  dirk  was 
fastened  in  the  belt.  On  either  side  of  the  figure  was  a  series  of  'symbols,' 
the  series  on  each  side  being  the  same,  except  that  on  the  right 
side  the  upper  'symbols'  were  smaller  and  the  lower  'symbols'  larger 
than  the  corresponding  ones  on  the  left  side. 

22.  "In  an  article  published  some  years  later  on  the  cuneiform  in- 
scriptions of  Van,  Dr.  Mordtmann  referred  to  the  boss,  and  it  was  his 
description  of  the  figure  in  the  centre  of  it  which  arrested  my  attention. 
I  saw  at  once  that  the  figure  must  be  in  the  style  of  art  I  had  just  deter- 
mined to  be  Hittite,  and  I  guessed  that  the  'symbols'  which  accompanied 
it  would  turn  out  to  be  Hittite  hieroglyphs.     .     .     . 

23.  "The  reading  of  the  cuneiform  legend  has  been  the  subject  of 
much  discussion,  for  the  most  part  needless.  It  gives  us  the  name  of 
the  king  whose  figure  is  engraved  within  it,  and  the  first  portion  of  it 
reads:  'Tarqu-dimme  king  of  the  land.'  The  second  portion  is  of  more 
doubtful  interpretation,  and  the  actual  meaning  of  it  could  not  have  been 

''  The  Hittites,  5th  ed.,  136  etc. 

^'■'  This  is  true  of  the  original,  not  of  the  reproduction ;  but  Sayce's  "right" 
and  "left"  immediately  below  refer  to  the  reproduction. 


THE    TARCONDEMUS    BOSS HEMPL  139 

arrived  at  with  certainty  before  the  decipherment  of  the  Hittite  texts.. 
The  last  word  me-e  or  me  is,  in  fact,  a  transhteration  of  the  Hittite  mc 
'I  (am),'  and  the  preceding  character  is  not  phonetic  but  the  ideograph 
of  'city.'  The  whole  legend  is,  consequently,  'Tarqu-dimme  king  of  the 
land  of  the  city  (am)  I.' ^^ 

24.  "The  name  Tarqu-dimme  is  evidently  the  same  as  that  of  the 
Cilician  prince  Tarkondemos  or  Tarkondimotos,  who  lived  in  the  time 
of  our  Lord.  The  name  is  also  met  with  in  other  parts  of  Asia  Minor 
under  the  forms  of  Tarkondas  and  Tarkondimatos ;  and  we  may  con- 
sider it  to  be  of  a  distinctly  Hittite  type.  The  boss  probably  came  from 
Cilicia. 

25.  "The  twice-repeated  Hittite  version  of  the  cuneiform  legend  nat- 
urally corresponds  with  the  latter.^®  But  the  arrangement  of  the  charac- 
ters composing  it,  due  more  to  the  necessity  of  filling  up  the  vacant  space 
on  the  boss  than  to  the  requirements  of  their  natural  order,  allowed  more 
than  one  interpretation  of  them.  There  were,  however,  two  facts  which 
furnished  the  key  to  their  true  reading.  On  the  one  hand,  the  inscription 
is  divided  into  two  halves  by  two  characters  whose  form  and  position  in 
other  Hittite  texts  show  them  to  signify  'king'  and  'country' ;  on  the 
other  hand,  the  first  two  characters  are  made,  as  it  were,  to  issue  from 
the  mouth  of  the  king,  and  must  thus  express  his  name.  Hence  the  first 
of  them,  which  represents  the  head  of  a  goat,  will  have  the  ideographic 
value  of  tarqu,^^  while  the  second,  which  has  not  hitherto  been  met  with 
elsewhere  in  the  inscriptions,  will  be  dinime.  Then  follow  the  ideo- 
graphs of  'king,'  'country,'  and  'city,'  the  first  being  a  picture  of  the 
royal  and  priestly  tiara  *^  and  the  third  a  representation  of  a  plough, 
while  in  the  second  Mordtmann  had  already  seen  a  likeness  of  the  peculiar 
shafts  of  rock  which  rise  out  of  the  Kappadokian  plateau.*^  The  last 
character  is  phonetic,*^  with  the  value  of  me,  a  short  oblique  line  attached 
to  it  further  expressing  the  vowel  e  of  the  cuneiform  text. 

26.  "The  hope  I  had  cherished  that  in  the  bilingual  boss  of 
Tarkondemos  we  had  found  the  key  to  Hittite  decipherment  was  not 
realized.*^-^  The  key  refused  to  turn  in  the  lock.  System  after  system  of 
decipherment  was  proposed,  which  satisfied  none  but  its  author,  and 
not  always  even  him.  For  more  than  twenty  years  I  had  vainly  tried 
every  possible  or  impossible  combination ;  a  blank  wall  invariably  defied 
my  efforts."-  I  came  at  last  to  the  conclusion  that  without  a  long  bilingual 
inscription  the  decipherment  of  the  Hittite  hieroglyphs  was  a  hopeless 
task. 


"  For  the  correct  rendering  of  the  cuneiform  legend  by  Hilprecht,  see  §  57. 

**  This  was  a  natural  but,  as  it  turned  out,  an  erroneous  assumption.     See  §  57. 

*  See  §31.  "  See  §33,  54- 

"  They  are  nothing  but  the  usual  triangles  representative  of  mountains  or 
country,  §50,  51. 

*' It  is  phonetic,  as  are  all  the  other  characters  (§15),  but  its  value  is 
(t^o,  §59)  not  me,  and  the  oblique  spur  designates  it  as  a  proper  name  (§7/2). 
See  §  32. 

*^-^  See  §19.  *'-'See§i7. 


I40  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

27.  "For  this  the  silver  boss  was  itself  in  part  responsible.  It  mis- 
led instead  of  assisting.  The  analysis  of  the  Hittite  legend  upon  it  given 
above  has  been  made  possible  only  now  that  the  decipherment  of  the 
texts  has  become  an  accomplished  fact.  We  now  know  that  the  last 
character  but  one  is  an  ideograph  and  not  phonetic,**  and  that  the  first 
element  in  the  name  of  the  king  is  used  with  its  ideographic  and  not  its 
usual  phonetic  value.  This  was  is;  it  was  only  when  it  denoted  a  goat 
that  it  was  pronounced  tarqu.^^     .     .     . 

28.  'Tn  the  early  days  of  my  Hittite  studies,  misled  by  the  copies 
we  then  possessed  of  the  Hamath  texts,  I  had  confused  together  the 
two  ideographs  of  'king'  and  'district.'  ^"^  Decipherer  after  decipherer 
had  followed  me  in  my  error,  thus  missing  the  sense  of  the  inscriptions 
and  losing  the  help  of  the  geographical  key.  As  long  as  the  ideograph 
of  'district'  was  supposed  to  mean  'king,'  the  decipherer  did  not  know 
where  to  look  for  the  geographical  names.  Once  the  determinative  was 
discovered,  however,  he  knew  that  he  would  find  them  in  the  words  to 
which  it  was  attached. 

29.  "The  ideograph  denoting  a  'district'  which  derived  its  name 
from  the  capital  city  is  not  quite  the  same  as  the  ideograph  for  'country' 
which  figures  on  the  silver  boss.  It  represents  only  one  mountain  peak, 
whereas  the  ideograph  for  'country'  represents  two.  But  the  two  ideo- 
graphs interchange  in  the  inscriptions,  their  signification  being  almost 
the  same." 

30.  I  have  read  these  paragraphs  over  many  times,  but  I  must  confess 
that  they  still  are  far  from  clear  to  me.  Even  admitting  the  legitimacy  of 
the  symbolic  interpretation  of  ideographs,  I  do  not  understand  how  a  plow 
could  serve  as  an  ideograph  for  'city'  (§  25)  ;  and  this  strange  assump- 
tion is  in  no  way  clarified  or  established  by  Sayce's  explanation  that  "the 
plough  properly  signifies  'the  cultivated  soil,'  but  it  is  also  used  to  denote 
'city,'  possibly  through  being  confused  with  another  ideograph  of  simi- 
lar shape  which  signifies  'a  gate.'  "  Unfortunately  it  is  characteristic 
of  the  method  employed  by  Sayce  in  his  Hittite  studies  that  he  does  not 
cite  cases  where  the  plow  obviously  has  the  value  'city,' — I  mean  where 
the  fact  that  it  has  this  value  is  established  independently  of  his  theory 
that  it  has  this  value  on  the  Tarcondemus  Boss.  It  is  also  in  harmony 
with  Sayce's  method  that  he  contents  himself  with  an  allusion  to  "an- 
other ideograph  of  similar  shape  which  signifies  'a  gate.'  "  One  feels 
that  one  has  a  right,  if  he  is  to  agree  with  the  writer,  to  see  the  ideo- 
graph referred  to,  and  that  he  should  be  given  the  evidence  that  it  means 
'a  gate.'  In  a  word,  I  must  frankly  say  that,  so  far  as  I  have  been  able 
to  discover,  Sayce  has  done  absolutely  nothing  to  make  it  at  all  probable 
that  the  plow  in  our  text  stands  for  'city.' 

**This  is  an  error,  see  §30.  "See  §  31.  **  See  §  a. 


THE   TARCONDEMUS    BOSS IlEMPL  I4I 

31.  Moreover,  one  is  puzzled  to  understand  how  the  goat  can  have 
"the  ideographic  value  of  tarqu"  (§  25,27).  Sayce  says,  "The  first  element 
in  the  name  of  the  king  is  used  with  its  ideographic  and  not  its  usual 
phonetic  value.  This  was  is;  it  was  only  when  it  denoted  a  goat  that  it 
was  pronounced  tarqu."  Now  a  character  may  be  an  ideograph  and  rep- 
resent the  object  depicted;  this  is  its  ideographic  value.  But  it  may  also 
represent  a  sound  or  a  group  of  sounds ;  this  is  its  phonetic  value.  What 
then  can  Sayce  mean  by  saying  that  the  phonetic  value  of  the  goat  was 
is,  but  that  it  was  pronounced  tarqu  when  it  denoted  a  goat?  Does  he 
perhaps  mean  that  the  people  of  Medan  recognized  the  idea  'goat'  in  the 
royal  name  Tarcondeinos?  It  is  true  that  in  cuneiform  writing,  in  which 
wholly  distinct  pictographs,  in  the  course  of  time,  became  blended  in 
one  and  the  same  cuneiform  character,  such  a  character  might  retain 
the  ideographic  value  of  one  of  the  original  pictographs  and  the  phon- 
etic value  of  another;  but  this  fact  does  not  justify  us  in  assuming  that 
in  a  pictographic  system  like  the  Hittite,  a  perfectly  clear  pictograph 
like  the  goat  had  one  ideographic  value  and  an  independent  phonetic 
value.  How  Sayce  came  to  assume  that  the  goat  had  the  phonetic  value 
is  or  is,  is  easy  to  see.  He  found  it  in  a  group  of  characters  that  he 
erroneously  assumed  spelled  Carchemish ;  that  is  all.  We  shall  see 
(§  57'  59)  that  the  goat  in  reality  had  the  phonetic  value  tra,  the  begin- 
ning of  xQayoc,,  the  Greek  word  for  'goat.' 

32.  Sayce's  rendering  of  the  so-called  last  character  (namely,  the 
quaternion,  XQac,,  a  common  spelling  of  xqa/xqo,  §  59)  by  me  was  based 
on  circular  argument.  He  believed  that  the  cuneiform  inscription  ended 
in  me.  This  he  could  not  explain  as  Assyrian,  but  assumed  that  it  was 
a  transcription  into  the  Assyrian  text  of  the  phonetic  value  of  what  he 
believed  was  the  corresponding  Hittite  character.  He  then  concluded 
that  this  assumed  Hittite  me  meant  T  (am),'  and  that  it  had  been  in- 
corporated into  the  Assyrian  text  with  the  same  value.     See  §  23. 

33.  Furthermore,  in  spite  of  what  Sayce  says  (§28)  as  to  having 
finally  succeeded  in  disentangling  the  signs  for  'king'  and  'district,'  it 
is  obvious  that  he  still  takes  the  district  sign  for  a  sign  of  kingship. 

The  A  which  Sayce,  Jensen,  and  others  assume  to  be  a  tiara  and  so  a 
sign  of  kingship,  is  no  tiara  at  all,*^  nor  does  it  coincide  wath  "the  royal 
head-dress  of  the  chief  figures  at  Boghaz  Keui,"  namely      M      or       lA 

"  For  a  real  tiara,  observe  the  //^\  on  the  Phaestos  Disc,  Harper's  Magazine, 
January  191 1,  191. 


142  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

as  Sayce  earlier  asserted.*^  Instead,  it  is  simply  a  form  of  the  district 
sign,  §  51/9.  See  also  §  54.  It  is  strange  that  Sayce  should  have  re- 
garded the  conical  hat  seen  on  the  chief  figures  at  Boghaz  Keui  as  a 
"royal  head-dress" ;  for  it  is  worn  only  by  the  gods,  while  the  figure  now 
recognized  as  the  king,  wears,  like  Tarcondemus,  a  close-fitting  cap.  To 
be  sure,  Sayce  calls  the  king  a  "eunuch-priest" ;  but  he  certainly  could 
not  have  taken  the  gods  for  kings.  At  another  time  I  shall  show  that  the 
aediculum  that  the  king  holds  aloft  is  the  royal  coat  of  arms. 

Before  continuing  (see  §  54)  the  criticism  of  Sayce's  interpretation 
of  the  Boss,  it  seems  best  to  consider  at  some  length  the  means  employed 
by  the  Hittites  to  express  the  ideas  'king,'  'great  king,'  'supreme  ruler,' 
etc.  (§  34-49)  and  the  signs  representing  'country,'  'district,'  and  the  like 
(§  50-53  )>  as  also  certain  other  pictographs  necessarily  involved. 

34.  I  can  find  no  evidence  that  Hittite  writing  possessed  any  sign 
for  kingship.  The  word  for  'king'  appears  always  to  have  been  written 
out,  even  when  used  as  a  title.  The  Hittites  were  fond  of  referring  to  their 
gods  and  kings  in  figurative  language.  One  of  their  chief  gods  was 
called  Thesippos  'the  mare's  suckling,'  this  Thesippos  being  the  full  form 
of  Theseus.*^  The  name  is  recorded  in  cuneiform  writing  by  the  neigh- 
bors of  the  Hittites  in  the  following  approximate  forms:  Tesubas, 
Teisbas,  Tisehu,^^-^  Tehip,  etc.^°  This  god  the  Hittites  called  "the 
Supreme  Ruler,"  also  "the  Supreme  Support  of  Pteria" ;  and  their 
priest-king  they  called  "the  Rock"  of  the  State.  "The  Supreme  Ruler" 
was  spelled^'  with  (^)  ay.gov  'supreme'  (§36),  followed  by  a 
mutilated  body  ffl  axQa)v[ia],^-  or  by  a  conical  object,^^  apparently 
representing  a  mountain  peak,  d'xQOv,  or  a  fragment  of  something,  dxQO- 
TO|iog,  intended  to  suggest  dxQov  'chief  or  'ruler.'  Compare  the  similar 
combination  of  mace-top,  dxQOv,  and  the  uplifted  hand,  dxQOxeiQ,  §    45- 

35.  One  of  the  stones  at  Malatia  ^*  represents  Thesippo(s)  standing 
on  a  bull,  with  his  triangular  bow  in  his  right  hand  and  in  his  left  three 


"  TSBA.  7/300,  and  Wright,  The  Hittite  Empire,  162,  2d  ed.  171. 

**Gruppe,  Griechischc  Mythologie,  584  and  foot-note  I     See  also  §74. 

*'■' Compare  Egyptian   Tis[e'\bw. 

^  In  these  cuneiform  spellings,  -pas/-bas  represents  Greek  -rotog,  as  -pu/-bu 
represents  -Jt;to(g)    (§42),   TAPA.  44/188.     See  footnote*". 

^^CIH.  27,  B,  E,  29/11. 

"Or  dxQCOviov  (cf.  xonia/xoniov),  or  some  other  word  related  to  dxpcoTTiQidta) 
'to  mutilate,'  'to  cut  off  the  extremities.' 

"  CIH.  30,  A. 

"Charles,  Hittite  Inscriptions,  pages  41-42;  Garstang,  The  Land  of  the 
Hittites,  plate  44. 


THE   TARCONDEMUS    BOSS HEMPL 


143 


thunderbolts.  Facing  him  stands  the  priest-king,  pouring  out  a  hbation 
to  the  god.  In  front  of  the  god  is  a  legend  ending  in  qe  'and,'  which 
is  continued  in  front  of  the  king,  thus — 


^ 


A 


mace-top  —  bracket 
d'xQov  —  EQ\ia 


country  —  ternion 
ya  —  TQidq 


arm 


arm  —  quaternion  —  mouth 
X8[iq]  —  TQd[g]  —  cbg 
=  'AxQOV  iQ\ia  QatQiag  qe  qsTQog 
'The  supreme  support  of  Pteria,  and  its  rock.' 

For  QatQiag/QetQiag,  see  §  8,  10.  For  qe,  later  te  'and,'  see  §  7/1.  In 
Minoan  linear  writing,  as  also  in  its  derivative,  archaic  Cyprian  syllabic 
writing,^^  this  word  was  spelled  with  a  hand  X^V^Q]'  whence  the  usual 
Cyprian  sign  for  ce/ge. 

36.  (®)  is  usually  called  the  sign  of  divinity  and  translated  'the 
god'  (§  3,  7).  This,  however,  is  not  quite  correct.  The  figure  represents 
the  top,  or  axQOV,  of  the  royal  mace  T  which  is  seen  before  some 
of  the  figures  on  the  sculptured  rocks  at  Pteria  and  in  other  representa- 
tions of  Hittite  sovereigns  and  gods.^*^  Like  our  "orb,"  or  "mound," 
it  was  the  symbol  of  sovereignty  or  supremacy,  and  was  appUcable  to 
human  as  well  as  to  divine  rulers.  In  some  cases  it  could  well  be  ren- 
dered Lord,  but  it  generally  is  best  to  translate  it  by  some  such  adjective 
as  great,  supreme,  exalted,  or  to  leave  it  unexpressed.  The  use  of  only 
the  top,  or  axQOV,  of  the  mace  was  a  happy  idea,  as  it  suggested  the  ad- 
jective d-nQog  'highest.'  'supreme.'    See  also  §  34,  35,  45»  7/2- 

37.  The  bracket  might  here  be  regarded  almost  as  an  ideograph  for 
'support' ;  whether  it  brought  to  the  Hittite  mind  the  word  sQ\ia,  EQEio\ia, 
or  some  other  word  for  'support,'  is  immaterial,  for  almost  every  one  of 
them  was  also  used  figuratively  for  a  chief  or  a  god  who  was  regarded 
as  the  stay  or  pillar  of  the  state.— For  the  country  sign,  see  §  5i/9-— 


■^^  Evans,  Scripta  Minoa,  1/70. 

^*Perrot  and  Chipiez,  History  of  Art  in  Sardinia,  Judaea,  Syria,  and  Asia 
Minor,  II,  fig.  278,  280,  281,  and  plate  8;    CIH.  22,  27. 


144  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

The  arm  or  hand  is  made  in  various  positions,  often  grasping  a  dagger. 
See  §4  end,  7/1,  35. — The  ternion  occurs  very  frequently  because  used 
in  spelhng  QsxQiaq,  §  8,  10.— The  month  here  suggests  a  Greek  counter- 
part to  Latin  os.    The  usual  Hittite  spelling  of  -oc,  is  the  handle  (bg,  §  42/2. 

38.  It  is  not  unlikely  that  the  designation  of  the  king  of  Pteria  as 
the  rock  of  the  state  was  suggested  by  the  fact  that  Pteria  means  'rocky 
place,'  or  'the  rocks,'  the  place  being  in  reality  a  remarkable  rocky  fast- 
ness. But  the  designation  of  a  king  or  other  leader  as  the  rock  of  the 
state  or  some  other  institution  is  a  natural  one  anywhere;  compare 
Christ's  words  to  Peter:  xdyw  6e  001  ^leyo),  oti  ov  el  IlexQog,  xal  em 
xaiJTT]  xfi  Ji8TQa  oko5o|irioa)  \iov  xr[V  eyMlr\oiav,  Matthew,  16/18.  Certainly 
qexQog  'rock'  became  the  regular  Hittite  word  for  'king.'  ^^-^ 

39.  This  may  well  be  illustrated  by  one  of  the  famous  monuments 
at  Marash ;    for  example,  the  stele  "  whose  inscription  begins : — 

(Ye)  QexQO  Tgaqov ,  dxoo  qETpog,  QexQiaq  qexQog,  ropyovag 

qsTQog,  Y<^v  qexQog,  etc. 

'(I,)  King  Traqon ,  the  great  king,  king  of  Pteria,  king  of 

Gorgon,  king  of  the  lands  (=  the  world),'  etc.' 


58 


40.  The  Hittite  princes  of  the  east  styled  themselves  "king  of 
Pteria"  (§8)  as  well  as  king  of  their  local  principality.  How  much 
reahty  this  reflects  and  to  what  extent  it  was  only  a  pious  phrase,  I  am 
unable  to  say;  but  one  is  reminded  of  the  mythical  persistence  of  "the 
Holy  Roman  Empire  of  the  German  People." 

41,  A  more  or  less  elaborate  pictogram  representing  the  cheek,  or 
side  of  the  face,  ye[yvq],  is  often  used,  alone  or  with  other  pictograms, 
to  spell  qE-,  the  first  syllable  of  qexpoC?)  and  OexQia.  At  the  beginning 
of  an  inscription  (rarely  elsewhere  ^^),  the  pictogram  is  frequently  drawn 
larger  and  more  elaborately,  with  one  hand  touching  ^°  or  pointing  ^^  to 
the  face.  Such  an  inscription  was  sometimes  cut  on  the  stele  or  statue 
of  a  king,  for  example  at  Marash  ^^ ;    and  in  such  a  case  the  pictogram 


"•^  There  was  no  one  word  for  'king'  in  the  Greek  world,  cf.  Paadeug,  ava^, 
doxavEXTig,  agxcov,  xvQawoq,  etc.,  a  fact  that  has  historical  significance. 

"CIH.  II.  52. 

"  Compare  the  titles  of  Sargon :  "Sargon,  the  ruler  of  Bel,  the  Priest  of  Asur, 
the  darling  of  Anu  and  Bel,  the  mighty  king,  king  of  hosts,  king  of  Assyria,  king 
of  the  four  quarters  (of  the  world),"  etc. 

"C/H.  5/4,  6/2,  11/3,  CIH.  II.  52/3.  '"CIH.  2/1. 

*'CIH.  3/B,  4/A,  B,  6/1,  7/1,  9/1,  CIH.  I.  19/1,  CIH.  II.  48/1,  51/1,  etc. 

"  CIH.  25. 


THE   TARCONDEMUS    BOSS HEMPL 


H5 


Part  of  copy  of  the  Inscription  on  the  Marash   Stele,  CIH.  II.  52. 

might  appear  as  a  large  full  figure  of  a  man  pointing  to  his  face,  as  in 
the  case  of  our  Marash  stele.®^  The  same  is  true  of  the  parallel  inscrip- 
tion on  the  Marash  Lion."*  Such  a  figure  probably  also  incidentally 
served  as  a  portrait  of  the  king  who  put  up  the  stone.  It  has  repeatedly 
been  suggested  that  our  pictogram  is  an  ideogram  for  *I,'  and  at  first 
sight  there  would  seem  to  be  some  justification  for  this  idea.  For 
example,  in  the  third  line  of  our  inscription  we  find — 

^IH.  II.  52.  ^CIH.  I.  21 


146  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 


That  is,  the  pictogram  is  followed  immediately  by  the  name  of  the  king. 
Unless  we  assume  that  the  scribe  made  a  mistake,  we  must  here  give 
the  pictogram  the  meaning  'I'.  This  does  not,  however,  force  us  to 
regard  it  as  an  ideogram.  Instead,  we  have  Y£[vijg]  as  the  speUing  of 
ye  'I.'  This  ye/YO  'here,'  'I,'  we  already  know  in  the  particle  yz,  Sanscrit 
aha  'to  be  sure,'  and  the  pronoun  e-Ya)(v),  Sanscrit  ahdm  'I,'  from 
*e-g{h)o-m;  compare  also  the  reinforced  g-yco-YE."^  That  the  picto- 
gram is  not  an  ideogram  but  an  iconomatic  element,  is  shown  by  the 
fact  that  it  is  so  often  followed  by  the  quaternion,^^  =  xga/xQO  (§  59), 
and  thus  furnishes  the  sole  spelling  of  the  first  syllable  of  q8TQo(g) 
(§42).  Elsewhere®^  it  is  followed  by  labial  or  other  velar  words,  and 
may  be  interpreted  either  as  ye  T  or  as  a  part  of  a  cumulative  spelling 
of  qe-;  see  §  11.  For  previous  suggestions  as  to  this  pictogram,  see 
Thompson,^"  page  11,  foot-note. 

42.  Before  an  initial  consonant,  a  final  -g  after  a  short  vowel  tended 
to  become  silent  in  Doric  Hittite  ®^  but  remained  intact  before  a  vowel  or 
a  pause ;  hence  qetQC  and  dxQo  above.  The  same  phenomenon  is  ob- 
servable in  Old  Latin,  Etruscan,  and  Lycian.  The  word  qETQo(i;)  'king' 
is  here  spelled  in  the  following  ways : — 

( I )  penis  —  quaternion  —  loop 

jie[05]  —  T9a[g]/TQo[3TT|], 

with  cumulative  spelling  of  the  last  syllable  (§  12).  A  similar  form 
of  the  first  character  is  used  in  Egyptian.  Hittite  has  two  other 
forms.     For  the  quaternion,  see  §  59.     The  character  that  I  have  pro- 


visionally rendered  loop  appears  in  various   forms,  of  which 

are  typical.  It  is  often  displaced  by  or  paired  with  j||    yl   ||    etc.,  which  I 

call  the  tied  loop.  There  can  be  no  question  that  the  character,  no  matter 

in   what   form  it  may  appear,  has  the  value  T90;    the  only   question 

*  Brugmann,  Demonstrativpronomina,  pages  69  etc.     Compare  English  Here 
too,  meaning  'I  too.' 

-C///.  3/B,  4/A,  B,  6,  etc.  Or  by  the  grubs  (§47),  CIH.  11/3. 
"For  example,  CIH.  2/1,  7/1,  9/1,  and  our  present  inscription. 
•*  TAP  A.  44/207. 


THE   TARCONDEMUS    BOSS  —  HEM  PL  147 

is,  what  does  it  represent?  I  believe  that  its  Hittite  name  was  XQOKr\ 
'a  turn,'  whether  this  is  to  be  interpreted  as  a  loop,  that  is,  a  cord  turned 
back  on  itself  (compare  ccyhvXt]  'bend,'  'loop'),  or  as  the  turning  post 
in  the  race  course  (compare  xa|iJiT|  'bend,'  'turn,'  'turning  post'). 

(2)  foot  —  loop  —  tied  loop  —  handle 
Jie8[ia]  — TQo[jtT|]/TQo[jtT|]  — 0)5 

In  Doric  Hittite  (§  i)  the  foot  is  known  by  the  Doric  name  neSia/jie^a 
(§6),  rather  than  novg.  The  handle  of  a  tub  or  jar,  resembling  the  ear 
of  a  man  lying  on  his  face,  was  called  o^?,  Doric  (b?,  and  was  the  usual 
way  of  spelling  the  syllable  -05.^®  Sayce  observed  that  the  handle  wg 
(which  he  regarded  as  a  yoke)  stood  at  the  end  of  words  that  appeared 
to  be  nominatives,  and  decided  that  it  spelled  -s,  because  he  found  appar- 
ent nominatives  in  -s  in  the  cuneiform  texts  from  Tell  el  Amarna  and 
in  Hittite  names  recorded  by  the  Egyptians  and  Assyrians. 

( 3 )  penis  —  loop  ^" —  handle 
jte[o5]  — TQo[rtf|]  — 0)5 

(4)  penis  —  stream  —  loop  ^° —  handle 

JIE[05]/:rtTl[YT|]  TQO[jtTl]  0)? 

(5)  foot  —  handle '"' 

Ji88[ia]  — 0)5 

This  last  spelling  is  less  exact  (§13)  than  the  others,  as  it  ignores  the 
Q.  In  the  corresponding  place  in  the  parallel  inscription  on  the  Marash 
Lion  the  word  is  spelled  more  exactly — 

(5.1)  foot  —  loop  —  handle 
0188  [la]  — T9o[n:r|]  — 0)5 

compare  (3)  above.  For  a  different  but  equally  inexact  spelling  of  the 
word,  compare — 

(5.2)  penis  —  river  —  handle 
ni[oq]  —  qo[t|]  —  o)5, 

CIH.  2/1 ;  also  penis  —  river,  CIH.  2/4.  For  still  other  spellings  of 
qETQ05,  see  §  9,  10  end,  35,  46,  64  end. 

"See  also  § Z7  end,  9,  etc.  " Mutilated  on  the  stone. 

"Compare  leg  —  handle,  CIH.  16 A. 


148  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL   VOLUME 

44.  The  name  of  this  king  of  Gorgon  clearly  begins  with  Traqon- 
(§63,  64),  but  I  have  not  succeeded  in  making  out  the  second  part  of 
it.  From  Assyrian  sources"  we  learn  of  a  Traqonlaro(s)  (written 
Tar-ku-la-ra  in  cuneiform)  of  the  city  of  Marash  (Marqasi),  who  was 
king  of  Gurgum  in  the  time  of  Sargon  and  Tiglathpileser  III,  that  is, 
in  the  latter  half  of  the  eighth  century  before  Christ. 

45.  The  word  dxQo(g)  is  here  spelled  by  means  of  the  figure  of 
a  large  uplifted  hand,  axgoyeiQ  or  d'xQa  Xeiq.  In  the  parallel  inscription 
on  the  Marash  Lion,^^  it  is  so  spelled  in  the  second  line,  but  in  the  first 
it  is  twice  spelled  with  the  mace-top,  dxQOv  (§36,  see  also  §  12),  and 
in  the  sixth  line  with  both  signs  (compare  §  34,  end),  which  makes 
practically  ^^-^  certain  the  signification  of  the  hand  when  held  aloft.  This 
interchangeableness  of  the  mace-top  with  the  uplifted  hand  is  observ- 
able elsewhere  also,  for  example  in — 


(m 


f\"-  fk 


which  correspond  to  the  Great  Frederick  and  Frederick  the  Great. 

46.  In  some  of  the  inscriptions  in  the  neighborhood  of  Malatia,^® 
including  one  of  this  same  king,  we  find  a  word  'great'  prefixed  to  the 
title  qeTQO  'king,'  which  precedes  the  name  of  the  king ;   thus  — 


house  —  pomegranate  —  handle         cleaver  —  tied  loop, 
\iiyaQO  [v]  /q6  [a]  —  d)g  xo  [jrig]  —  xqo  [jir|] 

=  |XEYaQog  qETgo(5)   'great  king.' 

This  \izyaQoc,  'great'  (mate  of  *^8YaXog,  \izycLh(\  'great')  has  already 
been  identified  "  as  the  base  of  the  verb  *tA£YaQ-ya)/[A8YaiQ0)  'regard  as 
(too)  great,'  'grudge.' 

"Kjiudtzon,  Die  zwei  Arzawa-Briefe,  22;  Winkler,  Geschichte  Babyloniens 
und  Assyriens,  224,  246.  "  CIH.  I.  21 ;    see  §  7/2  above. 

"■^  The  character  (see  §  7/2)  here  identified  with  the  mace-top  differs  slightly 
from  the  usual  form  of  that  character,  and  in  CIH.  I.  21/5  it  is  preceded  by  the  usual 
form,  much  as  the  loop  and  the  tied  loop  are  often  combined  (§42/1).  But  Thomp- 
son (""§37  etc.)  quotes  our  peculiar  form,  from  unpublished  inscriptions,  in  sit- 
uations that  may  possibly  prove  that  he  is  right  in  regarding  it  as  a  distinct 
character. 

"  CIH.  32/2,  4.  "  CIH.  16/A.  '•  CIH.  16A,  C,  CIH.  II.  47- 

"  Brugmann,  2d  ed.  II.  i,  page  356. 


THE   TARCONDEMUS    BOSS  —  HEMPL  149 

47.  The  word  QetQiag  'of  Pteria'  is  here  (§39)  spelled — 

jar  —  grubs  —  ternion 
■KE[QayiO!;]  — TeQ[T]86veg]/TQidg 

For  other  spellings,  see  §  10,  35. 

48.  roQYOvag  (§39)  'of  Gorgona,'  or  'of  Gorgon  (Gurgum),'"  is 
spelled  shield  —  shield  —  ram,''^  or  90W  —  90W  —  ars,  that  is,  with  the 
signs  for  the  words  that  were  later  pronounced  ^ovdr\  —  Poveit]  — 
aQoriv."  The  shield  was  also  used  to  spell  xv  (§  72).  It  will  be  remem- 
bered (§11)  that  the  labiovelars  (q  and  p)  were  still  intact  and  could 
be  used  to  spell  pure  velars.  roQYOva/roQYOVTi,  a  derivative  and  variant 
of  roQY^v,  is  found  also  as  the  name  of  an  island  off  the  northwest 
coast  of  Italy.  As  Assyrian  cuneiform  possessed  no  0  ^°  and  often  inter- 
changed m  and  n,  Assyrian  scribes  rendered  FopYOva  or  FoQYtiJ'v  by  Gur- 
gum.  The  name,  with  the  same  spelling,  is  found  also  in  other  Hittite 
texts,  for  example — 

shield  —  shield  —  raryi         jar  —  ternioi. 
ToQyovaq  QsTQia; 

'of  Gorgona  and  Pteria'  ^^ 

49.  The  word  y«v  'of  lands,'  that  is,  'of  the  world,' «-  is  spelled 

ideographically,  by  two  country  signs.    Traqon ,  certainly  was  a  great 

king,    for   his   name  is   found   in   inscriptions   in   many  cities,   including 
Malatia,  Marash,  Carchemish,  Aleppo,  Hamath,  Babylon. 

50.  It  is  important  that  we  have  clear  conceptions  as  to  the  signs 
for  country  (or  land),  district,  and  foreign  country.  These  did  not 
develop  exactly  alike  in  all  countries,  and  sometimes  one  sign  was  used 
as  the  equivalent  of  another  (§  53)  ;  but  this  is  no  reason  why  we  should 
not  observe  such  distinctions  as  are  made.  The  basis  of  all  the  signs  is 
a  crude  picture  of  an  irregular  landscape.  This  appears  as  three,  two,  or 
one  mountain,  and  could  be  used  to  represent  mouHtain{s),  as  well  as 
country  etc.  Such  a  character  might  also  have  intersecting  lines,  sym- 
bohc  of  the  division  of  the  land  into  districts.     And  such  a  checkered 


"Thompson  (page  31)  got  this  nearly  right.     See  foot-note"  above. 

"Or  do(o)vei65,  which,  too,  originally  meant  'male.' 

"  Foreign  o's  were  spelled  with  m  or  a  in  Assyrian.  See  Delitzsch,  Assyrische 
Grammatik,  §31.    Compare  also  Assyrian  Tarqu  for  Hittite  Tarqd(n)/Traqdn,  §61. 

"  CIH.  42/5. 

"  Compare  the  Assyrian  use  of  'king  of  the  four-quarters'  in  the  sense  of 
'king  of  the  world.'     See  foot-note  58. 


ISO 


FLUGEL    MEMORIAL   VOLUME 


mountain  or  pair  of  mountains  could,  in  careless  writing,  open  at  the 
top  and  ultimately  appear  as  a  series  of  horizontal  lines  intersected  by 
vertical  lines,  or  as  a  square  with  a  cross  in  the  center.  There  thus 
arose  the  various  forms — 


1.  Three  mountains 

2.  Two  mountains 

3.  One  mountain 

4.  Intersected  triangle 

5.  Intersected  quadrilateral 


AA 
A 

A 
ffi 


51.  These  various  forms,  or  some  of  them,  persisted  in  each  com- 
munity and  got  specific  values  as  the  general  idea  'country'  became 
differentiated  into  'land,'  'district,'  'foreign  country.'     But  this  differ- 
entiation was  not  absolute,  nor  was  it  identical  in  all  countries. 
Compare  the  three  mountains — 


(i)   Sumerian 

(2)  Assyrian 

(3)  Hittite 

(4)  Egyptian 
And  the  two  mountains — 


*  mountains  or  country 


country  (yri/Ya) 
foreign  country 


(5)  Minoan 

(6)  Hittite 

(7)  Egyptian 


country  (yea) 


A  A    fr\/z\    ^^  country  or  district 


district,    derived    from    an    earlier 


/7Y    1    \  ,  an  opened  form  of  two  intersected  mountains,  like    /TvTA. 
And  the  single  mountain  and  intersected  triangle — 

(8)   Egyptian        /  \    and        ^        ^<^**^  or  country 


THE   TARCONDEMUS    BOSS — HEMPL 


151 


(9)   Hittite 


(10)  Minoan 


/  \    and  ^^  country  (yVY".  br\\io<;/ba\io<;} 

I  /T\    and  /-Fa  district  {bi\\iog/ba\io(;) 

/  \  district  (bfjjAog) 

/  I  \    and  i  1-1  foreign  country  (|evt|) 


It  will  be  observed  that  the  Minoan  sign  for  'foreign  country'  arose  out 
of  the  sign  for  'district,'  probably  because  the  smallness  of  Crete  brought 
it  about  that  there  was  more  occasion  to  write  the  sign  when  naming 
foreign  districts,  and  that  it  thus  became  associated  with  countries  other 
than  Crete.  This  left  the  two  mountains  and  the  single  mountain  to 
represent  respectively  'country'  and  'district.'  That  the  three  moun- 
tains became  in  Egypt  the  sign  for  'foreign  country'  was  natural,  inas- 
much as  Egypt  itself  was  a  flat  country. 

52.    [In  Minoan  writing 
to  spell  |e.    For  example,  in- 


levT],  or  foreign  country,  was  used 


I 


li[vr\]  —oxr\[Qiyl] 
=  ^EOTTj  'polished,' 

on  the  peculiarly  polished  cylix  from  Goulas.^^  The  sign  _J_  or  ^ 
(later  2  )  i^  '^  ot^IQIyI  'support'  or  'column,'  and  spelled  ste  or  tse, 
later  st/ts/dc/c.  The  +  is  the  Minoan  punct.  It  stands  regularly  at 
the  end,  like  our  period,  or  full  stop.  Sometimes  it  stands  between  each 
word  and  then  may  stand  also  before  the  first  word.  Evans  thought 
it  always  stood  at  the  beginning,  and  so  turned  all  the  texts  wrong 
end  to.     The  sign     |-l— I    appears    also    in    the     Formello    and    Caere 

alphabets  (after  N,  where  we  later  find  E)  and  in  actual  use  in  the 
Etruscan  word  supelnex  'vessel',**  whence  Latin  supdlex  (with  regular 
assimilation   of  In   to   //).      Neglect   of   two   or   all   three   perpendicular 

lines  led  to  the   familiar  forms      4-       and      —    .  Hei/HI,   from  ^e[\nil. 

— The       /\      (^filno;!    is    the    basis    of    the    later   A    ht'\xa. — For    the 

'^Journal  of  Hellenic  Studies,  14/278.  •*Fal)rrtfi.  j</),  tcr  b. 


152 


FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 


Minoan  sources  of  other  Greek  letters,  I  must  refer  to  my  forthcoming 
report  on  Minoan  Greek.] 

53.  The  original   identity  of   the  various   signs   for  land,  district, 
etc.,  is  also  betrayed  by  the  fact  that  Egyptian 


A 


land       and 


I 


district 


have  just  the  same  phonetic  value.  Moreover,  though  the  differen- 
tiation was  real  and  must  not  be  lost  sight  of,  Sayce  is  right  in  saying 
that  the  Hittite  country  sign  and  the  district  sign  were  sometimes  used 
interchangeably,  that  is,  in  variant  spellings  of  the  same  word;  and 
such  is  the  case  on  the  Tarcondemus  Boss  (§57).  though  this  was  not 
observed  by  Sayce.  Nor  must  it  be  forgotten  that  in  Greek  the  word 
bf\\iO(;  meant  both  'country'  and  'district.' 

54.  Sayce  recognized  three  of  the  six  characters  on  the  Tarconde- 
mus Boss,  the  goat,  the  plow,  and  the  country  sign.  As  we  have  seen, 
his  application  of  the  first  was  imperfect  (§  31),  his  interpretation  of  the 
last  as  an  ideograph  was  mistaken  (§  15),  and  of  the  plow  he  made  no 
logical  use  at  all  (§30).  Thus  his  explanation  of  the  legend  as  a  whole 
falls  to  pieces.  So  far  as  I  can  see,  the  only  apparently  reasonable  basis 
that  it  had  was  the  idea  that  the  country  sign  corresponded  to  the  word 
'country'  in  the  cuneiform  text.  In  fact,  it  does  not  take  much  reflection 
to  perceive  that  Sayce's  whole  interpretation  revolves  about  this  sup- 
posed correspondence.  One  need  but  read  his  earlier  explanation  of  the 
Boss  ^5  to  see  how  true  this  is.  Had  he  not  been  possessed  by  the  idea 
that  this  apparent  correspondence  was  a  real  one,  and  therefore  felt  him- 
self forced  to  regard  the  preceding  sign  as  in  some  way  standing  for 
the  word  'king'  in  'king  of  the  country,'  I  am  sure  he  would  never  have 
taken  this  preceding  district  sign  for  a  tiara  or  a  royal  head-dress.  The 
idea  that  the  country  sign  corresponded  to  the  Assyrian  word  for  'country' 
in  the  cuneiform  text  was  undoubtedly  a  good  one  to  try.  But  when  it  was 
found  wholly  unsupported,  it  should  have  been  frankly  and  definitively 
abandoned,  and,  with  it,  the  various  questionable  equations  and  assump- 
tions to  which  it  had  given  birth.  Had  Sayce  taken  this  course,  he  might 
have  freed  himself  of  the  idea  that  Hittite  writing  was  ideographic  and 
that  the  Hittite  text  on  the  Boss  must  correspond  word  for  word  to  the 
Assyrian. 

55.  Turning  now  to  Jensen,^®  who  regards  Hittite  as  proto-Armenian, 
we  find  the  legend  rendered  as  follows — 

^TSBA.  7/299  etc.,  copied  by  Wright,  162  etc.,  2d  ed.  170  etc. 
^  Hittiter  und  Armenier,  50  etc. 


THE   TARCONDEMUS    BOSS HEMPL  I53 

(Tarbibi- Oder)  Tarku(f)-(u)assi-mi  Unniai?)  dsari(o)  dsari(o), 
and  translated : — 

'(Tarbibi-  oder)  Tarkuwassimi,  von  Urmi{  ?)  der  Konig,  der  Konig.' 

To  this  are  added  numerous  footnotes,  of  which  the  following  are  most 
to  the  point : — 

"So  aber  nur  dann  zu  ordnen  und  zu  iibersetzen,  falls  die  assyrische 
Legende— TAR-BI-BI-i<aiifmf  iar  (matu)  U (f)r-mi-t(f)  d.  i.  TAR-BI- 
Bl-uassinii,  Konig  von  (dem  Lande)  U(f)rmi(f) — eine  zum  Mindesten 
annahernd  genaue  Uebersetzung  der  doppelten  hatischen  Beischrift  ist. 
Ohne  Riicksichtnahme  auf  sie  wiirden  wir  die  Inschrift  links  (auf  dem 
Original)  und  daher  auch  die  inschrift  rechts,  von  der  Konigsfigur  aus 
nach  beiden  Seiten  hin  lesend,  nach  den  Principien  der  hatischen  Schrift 
so   ordnen:     i)    Ziegenkopf,    2)    membrum  muliebre(?),    3)    der   ein- 
fache  Konigshut,    4)  das  Zeichen,  das  wir  mi  lesen  und,  weil  es  in  der 
Gruppe   fiir  den  Genitiv  von  Karkemls  gebraucht  wird  und  oft  mit  in 
wechselt,  zum  Mindesten  ahnlich  lesen  miissen,    5)    ?,    6)   der  doppelte 
Konigshut.    Ohne  Beriicksichtigung  der  assyr.  Randschrift  konnten  wir 
dies  z.  B.  deuten :    i)   "Von    ?-?  der  Konig,  der  grosse   (fmfd)    (oder: 
bin  ich  (emi)),    ?  (Name),  der  Konig";    oder  2)   "?     ?  (Name),  der 
Konig,   der   grosse    (oder:    bin    ich),    von    ?   der   Konig"   oder   3)    "? 
(Name),  von  ?  der  Konig,  der  grosse   (oder:    bin  ich),   ?,  der  Konig." 
Es  muss  bemerkt  werden,  dass  wir  in  der  Loweninschrift  Z.  3  im  Anfang 
unter  und  hinter  dem  Zeichen  fiir  "Mann"  vielleicht  einen  Ziegenkopf 
und  dann  vielleicht  als  Symbol  eines  Konigsnamens  lesen,  dass  darauf 
eine   Hieroglyphe,   ein   schrages   Messer  mit   2   Einschnitten — oben   mit 
"streitbare"    (?)    wiedergegeben — folgt,    die    immerhin   mit    der    Hiero- 
glyphe iiber  dem  Doppelkegel  unsrer  Inschrift  identisch  sein  konnte,  und 
dass  darunter  eine  Hieroglyphe  steht,  fiir  die  wir  oben,  Amm.  6  zu  Hama 
I-HI,   die   Lesung  imid  vermutet   haben.      Damach    konnte    man    bei 
Ignorierung  der  assyrischen  Legende  versucht  sein,  die  hatische  Inschrift 
so  zu  lesen:     ?  GURGUM   (oder  MARIAS)   dsari{o)   mi  ?  dsari(o), 
und  zu  deuten:    "?  (Name),  von  Giirgum   (oder  Markas)   der  Konig, 
der  grosse.  der  streitbare (  ?),  der  Konig,"  und  diesen  Konig  gar  mit  dem 
der  Loweninschrift   von   Mar' as  zu   identilicieren.     Die   Randinschrift 
miisste  dann  von  einem  anderen  Konige,  nahmlich  einem  Konige  von 
U{f)rmi(f),  herriihren,  der  etwa  den  Knauf  mit  der  Inschrift  erbeutete. 
D  i  e  s  e  r    Konig  konnte   dann  derselbe  wie  der  vielleicht  in  7^^'^/;;  I\', 
5   genannte   sein.     Icgin   liegt   keine    10   Meilen   von   Mar' as.      Indes — 
zwingend  sind  unsre  Bedenken  nicht,  und  jedenfalls  zeigt  die  Vergleich- 
ung  der  beiden   hatischen    Inschriften,   der   zur   Rechten   und   der  zur 
Linken,  dass  der  Kiinstler  bestimmt    e  i  n  m  a  1  ,    durch  die  Raumver- 
haltnisse   gezwungen,    das    Anordnungsprincip   durchbrach.      Nach    der 
Inschrift  links  (auf  dem  Original)    miisste  bei  strenger  Anordnung  der 
Kegel  nach  der  2ten,  nach  der  Inschrift  rechts  aber  nach  der  obersten 
Hieroglyphe  gelesen  werden." 


l^  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL   VOLUME 

I  think  we  can  let  this  interpretation  speak  for  itself.  Buried 
beneath  such  a  load  of  misdirected  learning,  it  is  Uttle  wonder  that 
Hittite  remained  undeciphered.^^ 

56.  Thompson's  treatment  of  the  Boss  ^^-^  is  as  unsatisfactory  as 
it  is  brief:  "A  possible  reading  of  the  hieroglyphs  is  Lal{  ?)  °Targu(  ?)- 
san-t(a)  'country'  'lord' == 'Seal  (  ?)  of  Targu-santa,  lord  of  the  land.'  " 
In  general,  Thompson's  study  of  the  Hittite  pictographic  texts  is  cour- 
ageous, resourceful,  and  refreshing;  but,  though  he  is  more  cautious 
than  Sayce  (§20),  Thompson  too  builds  vast  structures  on  weak  foun- 
dations. He  relies  largely  on  what  he  deems  correspondences  between 
pictographic  Hittite  and  cuneiform  Hittite.  When  we  consider,  how- 
ever, that  at  the  time  that  he  wrote,  hardly  a  single  word  in  the  cunei- 
form texts  had  been  correctly  interpreted,  it  is  clear  what  sort  of  a  basis 
they  could  furnish.  Thompson  believes  that  the  monuments  are  prac- 
tically all  requests  for  an  alliance, — in  itself  a  most  improbable  idea. 


57.  Once  freed  from  the  preconception  that  Hittite  is  written  ideo- 
graphically  (§15)  and  that  the  Hittite  text  on  the  Tarcondemus  Boss 
must  correspond  word  for  word  to  the  Assyrian  text  (§25),  one  surely 
should  not  find  much  difficulty  in  discovering  the  real  character  of  the 
situation,  for  it  lies  on  the  very  surface,  clear  and  unmistakable.  So  far 
as  I  can  learn,  Golenischeff  ^*  is  the  only  scholar  who  has  suggested  that 
the  Hittite  text  might  contain  the  king's  name  only,  but  in  this  he  was 
quite  right.     The  established  reading  of  the  Assyrian  legend  is — 

'Tarqudime,  king  of  the  country  of  the  city  of  Medan.'  ®^ 

Hilprecht  identified  Me  tan  {=  me^  dan  ^^)  with  Egyptian  Mitn  and 
Assyrian  Mitaan,  Mitana,  Mitanii,  Mitanni  (the  later  Amida,  from  n 
Mtda(n)  'in  Midan'),  the  capital  of  Arzawa/Arzama  (the  later  Arza- 
nene,  the  source  of  the  Tigris),  and  recognized  in  Tarqudime 
the  Assyrian  form  of  the  Cilician  name  TaQx6v8T]^o5,  or  Tarcondemos, 
as  others  had  done  before.     It  is  obvious  that  the  Hittite  characters  on 


"  See  also  Messerschmidt's  critique  of  Jensen's  work,  Mitieilungen  der 
V orderasiatischen  Gesellschaft,  3,  1898.  This  critique  I  know  only  at  second  hand, 
for  unfortunately  the  volume  containing  it  is  still  inaccessible  to  me  as  this  paper 
goes  to  press. 

"■^Archaeologia,  6^/1^2,-  *^PSBA.    May  i,  1888. 

"Hilprecht,  Assyriaca,  107  etc.;  Meyer,  Geschichte  des  Altcrtums,  2d  ed. 
I.  2,  page  626. 

•*  TAP  A.  44/187.    For  the  use  of  '',  see  §  6,  end. 


THE   TARCONDEMUS    BOSS — HEMPL  155 

the  left  of  the  effigy  of  Tarcondemos  duplicate  those  on  the  right.  At 
first  sight,  the  order  of  the  characters  seems  to  be  different.  It  will, 
however,  be  perceived  that  only  the  second  character  is  somewhat  out  of 
place  and  that  this  displacement  was  due  to  the  fact  that  there  was  not 
room  enough  to  put  both  this  and  the  tall  third  character  exactly  under 
the  goat's  head.  So  far  as  I  know,  it  has  not  been  suspected  that  each 
of  these  two  identical  texts  is  itself  in  duplicate,  consisting  simply  of 
two  different  spellings  of  the  name  TaQxcvStmos.  Between  the  king  and 
his  spear  we  find — 

goat        —         vulva        —         district 
XQd[yoq]    —     YOv[r|]        —         br\\iot; 
That  is,  TQa-yov-Simo;  =  TQaq6v6Ti|X05. 

At  the  right  of  the  spear  we  have — 

quaternion        —         plow        —         country 

xQa[q]         —      YOv[dTiov]       —      6f)nog 

That  is,  tQa-YOV-8Ti|xog=TQaq6v6Tinog. 

In  other  words,  we  have  two  different  spellings  of  the  same  name,  which 
corroborate  one  another  and  make  the  reading  certain.  For  still  another 
spelling  of  the  name,  see  §  71. 

58.  I  first  thought  the  second  character  was  a  pine  cone  xtov[og], 
which  would  give  the  same  result.  Jensen  identified  it  correctly;  see 
the  photograph.^^  A  similar  pictogram  is  used  obscenely  in  scribblings 
on  walls  etc.  on  the  continent. 

59.  The  quaternion  XQai;  is  the  usual  Hittite  spelling  for  xga/xQO 
(§  13)  ;  the  goat  xgdyoq  is  comparatively  rare.  Both  may  be  employed 
in  cumulative  writing;  thus,  goat-quaternion,^^-^  and  quaternion-goat.^^- 
The  goat  is  the  usual  Minoan  spelling,  xgdyoc,  is  for  *KXQa.yo<;,  from 
qtragos/qetrg-,  the  Ji  being  lost  in  the  initial  group  jitq-.  The  Hittite 
XQaq  is  the  mate  of  the  familiar  xetqci;  'quaternion.'  The  latter  is  from 
qet{u)r-\  the  former  (earlier  *JtTQag),  like  XQ6.-KzC,a  '(four-legged) 
table,'  is  from  qt(u)r-,  with  the  regular  simplification  of  kxq-  to  to-  as 
in  xgdyog  above.  Or  xQag  may  be  a  Hittite  contraction  of  xEtodg,  like 
Latin  Restiltus  for  Restitutus,  Greek  dnqpoeEijg  from  d|.icpiq)OQEi)g,  etc."- 
The  bar  attached  to  the  quaternion  designates  the  word  as  a  proper  name, 
see  §  7/2. 


"  TSBA.  end  of  volume  7 ;  not  very  clearly  reproduced  in  Sayce's  The  Hittites. 
"•'  CIH.  I.  10/2.  "'CIH.  11/2. 

•*Hirt,  Handbuch,  2d  ed.  page  249. 


156  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL   VOLUME 

60.  The  yovctTiov  was  not  the  usual  Mediterranean  plow,  but  a  plow 
with  several  teeth,  or  shares,  something  like  our  cultivator.  The  word 
(literally  a  'knee')  was  appUed  to  a  plow  of  this  style  because  it  looks 
like  the  leg  of  a  man  kneeling  on  the  ground,  with  his  feet  bent  under 
and  forward,  like  the  plowshares.     For  district /country,  see  §  51. 

61.  Our  Tpaqov-  and  the  Tarqu-,  or  Tarku-,  of  Assyrian  Tarqudime, 
or  Tarkudime,  are  obviously  the  same  as  the  TaQxo(v)-/TaQXD(v)-/ 
Tqoxo(v)-  of  names  found  in  Cilicia,  Caria,  etc.,  and  the  Tarkun-  seen 
in  Tarknn-daraus,  the  name  of  the  Doric  king  of  Arzama,  etc.^^  All 
are  doubtless  correctly  identified  with  the  name  of  the  god  called  Tarqu/ 
Tarku/Targu ;  see  Kretschmer  and  Meyer,  and  §  65  below.  More- 
over, these  words  can  not  (in  spite  of  Kretschmer,  409)  be  sepa- 
rated from  Etruscan  Tarxu  {=  tarred,  earher  tar^qon),  Taryria  {tarc^na, 
earlier  tarqen^na,  written  Tarquenna  in  Latin,  still  earlier  tarq-en-^ya, 
which  was  originally  the  ablative  ^*  of  the  feminine  family  name  whose 
nominative  was  ^tarq-en-id,  which  regularly  became)  Latin  Tarquinia, 
masculine  Tarquinius,  Pompeian  Oscan  Ta^mvia,  TaQitiviog,  Osco-Latin 
Tarpa,  Tarpeius,  etc.^^  It  is  obvious  that  we  have  to  do  with  traq-/ 
tarq-  -f  on/ on/ en  etc.  The  Etrusco-Latin  Tarquenna,  Latin  Tarquinius, 
Oscan  TaQJtiviog,  etc.,  betray  the  earlier  Etruscan  q\  while  Etruscan 
Tar^u  {=:  tarred)  shows  the  later  change  of  q  to  c/^  as  also  the  usual 
Etruscan  use  of  the  letter  u  to  spell  o  as  well  as  u.^''  Tarqu/Tarku/Targu, 
the  name  of  the  god,  has  come  to  us  through  Assyrian  sources  from  the 
Hittite  Greek  TaQq(o(v)/TQaqco(v).  As  the  Assyrians  had  no  0,  they 
substituted  u  for  the  Greek  a).«°  The  Cicilian  names  beginning 
with  the  name  of  the  god  appear  to  have  had  the  later  %  (=c),  but 
this  is  not  absolutely  certain.  In  the  Greek  hitherto  known  to  us,  qo 
regularly  developed  into  po,  exceptionally  into  co.  The  spellings  TaQxij- 
aQic,,  TaQxv^i-Piog,  etc.,  seem  to  reflect  the  change  of  qo  to  cu,  as  in 
Latin  equos  >ecus.  But  it  is  conceivable  that  after  q  had  become  t/jt/x 
in  Greek  generally,  a  local  archaic  qo  might  be  spelled  y.v  (cu),  just  as 
at  a  later  time  Latin  qi  was  spelled  v.v  (cv)  in  TaQxuviog  (the  Greek 
rendering  of  Tarquinius)  and  TaQxuvia, — but  observe  also  TaQXfi)viov. 


"  Kretschmer,  Einleitung,  364.  In  Egyptian  such  Hittite  names  are  spelled 
Trg-,  and  in  Lycian,  Trqqii-.  Compare  also  "Phrygio-Thracian"  names  like 
ToQxog/ToQxoug,  ToQxounaiPris ;  Kretschmer,  223,  224,  Jensen,  152  ft.  Jensen 
compares  Terah,  the  name  of  Abraham's  father. 

"  Hemp],  Early  Etruscan  Inscriptions,  page  11.    Matzke  Memorial  Volume,  117. 

"  Herbig,  Indogermanische  Forscliimgen,   1909,  26,   11/377,  380. 

"Early  Etruscan  Inscriptions,  page  15.     Matzke  Memorial  Volume,  121. 

"The  same,  page  7.     Matzke  Memorial  Volume,  113. 


etc. 


THE   TARCONDEMUS    BOSS HEMPL  I57 

62.  I  do  not  understand  why  Tqoxo-  by  the  side  of  Tuqxo-  troubled 
Kretschmer  and  led  him  to  assume  "*  with  Imbert,  that  they  were  merely 
variant  spellings  for  a  form  with  syllabic  r.  Lycian  Trqqnta  really 
throws  no  light  on  the  subject.  For  there  is  no  evidence  that  the  name 
was  Lycian,  and  thus  no  reason  to  assume  that  the  Lycian  form  is  more 
original  than  TaQxc/Tgoxo-.  To  be  sure,  it  has  become  customary  to 
father  all  unexplained  names  upon  a  supposititious  prehistoric  Anatolian 
race ;  but  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  scholars  will  be  more  cautious 
in  this  matter  in  the  future.  The  change  of  Qa  to  ap  before  a  consonant, 
as  seen  in  TQaxov-/Taoxov-,  is  the  commonest  sort  of  metathesis ;  in 
fact,  it  is  practically  the  rule  in  large  tracts  of  the  Greek  territory.^''  The 
change  of  Tpaxov-  to  Tqoxov-  is  nothing  but  an  illustration  of  the  regular 
Greek  mutation  of  a  —  o  to  o  —  o. 

63.  As  we  have  seen  (§44),  the  name  Traqo{n) /Troqo{n) /Tarku 
frequently  appears  in  Hittite  pictographic  texts  written  with  a  picture 

of  a  python,  or  boa,    vJPujr    <^Q"'''-wv,  generally  conventionalized  into — 

iw  ijy  yy  El  w  Jl/ * 

Compare  the  similar  serpent  on  the  grave  mound  pictured  on  a  black- 
figured  lecythos.^°"  Sayce  recognized  the  Hittite  character  as  repre- 
senting "a  species  of  snake."  ^"^  In  the  identification  of  the  pictogram 
with  the  8Qdx(ov,  and  the  recognition  of  it  as  the  symbol  for  the  god 
Tarku,  I  find  that  I  have  been  anticipated  by  Hommel  (see  §  70).  It  should 
be  observed,  however,  that  this  did  not  lead  Hommel  to  suspect  that 
Hittite  was  Greek ;  on  the  contrary,  he  suggested  that  Greek  Sqcixcov 
was  "an  old  loan-word  from  the  Scythian  language  =  Tarku."  It  is 
a  pity  that  he  did  not  draw  the  obvious  conclusion ;  for,  had  he  done 
so,  our  knowledge  of  Hittite  Greek  would  doubtless,  by  this  time,  be 
far  advanced.  It  is  remarkable  also  that  Hommel's  discovery  of  the 
Hittite  spelling  of  the  name  of  the  god  Traqon/Tarku  should  have  been 
ignored  as  it  has  by  Hittite  scholars. 

64.  AQcixoov,  the  Greek  name  for  the  python,  furnished  an  excellent 
spelling  for  Traqon/Traqon-.     On  the  Babylonian  Bowl  ^°^  we  find — 

(gg)  \SV    'Great  Traqon.' 

More  frequently  the  final  syllable  is  respelled  (§12)  by  an  added  char- 

**  Einleitung,  362. 

"  Thumb,  Handbuch  der  griechischen  Dialektc,  page  130. 

'"'Whibley,  A  Companion  to  Greek  Studies,  502. 

""  TSBA.  5/25.  ""  CIH.  1/3 


158  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

acter.  For  example,  the  picture  of  a  boat  'kv[i[^7\]   may  repeat  the  -xcov 
of  6Qdx(ov — 


Usually,  however,  the  conventionalized  figure  of  the  front  view  of  the 
face  and  extended  ears  of  an  ass  ov[o5]  repeats  the  -cov  of  SQctxcov — 

^^^  ^^::^  <5:r>  <r^  C22> 

As  the  ass  0V05  may  spell  either  ov  (that  is,  the  nominative  -odv)  or  ovos 
(that  is,  the  genitive  -ovog),  it  is  obvious  that  the  pictograms — 

might  read  either  'the  Great  Traqon'  or  'of  the  Great  Tarqon.'  But 
whether  the  ass  is  written  or  not,  the  genitive  -eg  may  also  be  specifi- 
cally spelled  by  the  usual  sign  for  -eg,  namely  the  ear-shaped  handle 
of  a  tub  or  jar —         

L    A  ,  w 


Thus— 


or    ^      A   ,  w?   (§42/2). 

(1)  ®  \n/<0   'of  Great  Traqon' ^o« 

(2)  (H)  IM  ^^^  ^  'of  Great  Traqon' 

(3)  Wt/Q)  'of  Traqon. 


'  108 


In  (i)  the  ass  is  not  used;  in  (2)  it  is  represented  by  a  conventionalized 
form;  in  (3)  it  appears  in  a  naturalistic  form.  Hitherto  the  convention- 
alized form  of  the  ass  has  not  been  recognized,  it  being  assumed  to  be  a 
winged  disc  or  a  vase.    The  parallel  use  of  the  unmistakable  naturalistic 


^•^C/H.  II.  50/2,  3-  "»C/H.  32/2.  "^CIH.  2/2. 

"'Tell  Ahmar,  A.  2,  Liverpool  Annals,  2,  plate  38. 

'°*  CIH.  i6/c.  Jensen  and  Messerschmidt  regard  this  inscription  as  a  forgery. 
To  me  their  argument  that  it  begins  too  much  like  CIH.  16A,  has  no  force.  The 
fact  that  it  shows  a  more  natural  figure  of  the  head  of  an  ass,  with  ears  erect, 
while,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  no  modern  scholar  had  suspected  that  the  corresponding 
figure  in  the  other  inscriptions  was  an  ass,  seems  to  me  good  evidence  of  its 
genuineness. 


THE    TARCONDEMUS    BOSS  —  HEMPL  I59 

form  of  the  ass  makes  my  identification  practically  certain.  To  be  sure, 
in  the  course  of  time  the  identity  of  the  object  became  obscured ;  and  so 
it  is  not  strange  that  the  character  at  times  approached  a  representation 
of  a  winged  disc  or  of  a  vase.    That  the  pictograms — 


mw 


spelled  the  name  of  a  god  was  suggested  by  Sayce  and  confirmed  by 
Thompson  and  others ;  but  they  thought  it  referred  to  Sandes  or  Tesup. 
The  ass  ovog  is  used  also  as  a  spelling  for  the  case  endings  -ov/-a)v,  side 
by  side  with  handle  (bg  =  -eg  : — 

hand  —  foot  —  loop  —  handle  =  qexQO(;,  CIH.  II.  52/3, 
penis  —  loop  —  handle  =  qsxQoq,  CIH.  II.  52/1, 
penis  —  foot  —  loop  —  ojj  =  qsTQcav,  CIH.  II.  52/3; 

face  —  foot  —  loop  —  handle  penis  —  bull  —  ass 

Ye[v\jg]/jiE8[ia]  — TQo[jir|]  — (bq         JiE[og]  — Ta{JQ[og]  — ov[og] 
=  qeTQog  qetQCOv  'king  of  kings/  CIH.  2/1, 

nock  —  foot  —  loop  arrow  —  loop  —  ass 

7ixiQ(ti[\ia]/nEb[ia]  — TQo[jir|]  xfj[Xov]  — tqo[jit|]  — ov[og] 

=  qetQO)  qexQCOv  'to  the  king  of  kings,'  CIH.  2/2. 

65.  It  may  be  asked,  what  is  traq-on-,  and  who  was  Traqon?  I 
have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  traq-on-  stands  for  earlier  qtrag-on-. 
Such  a  group  as  qtr/ptr  is  liable  to  simplification,  becoming  tr  (§59). 
If  a  consonant  follows  which  is  cognate  or  coordinate  with  one  of  those 
in  the  group,  metathesis  may  early  take  place,  and  the  simplification  then 
assume  the  form  of  dissimilation.  Thus  qtrag-on-/ (g) traq-on-  appears  to 
have  suflFered  the  same  sort  of  metathesis  as  was  suflFered  by  axejtTO|iai, 
from  ^ojiexTGiiai,""  and  the  same  sort  of  dissimilation  as  we  observe  in 
Latin  s(c)iliqua.  For  the  combination  of  metathesis  and  dissimilation 
in  one  and  the  same  word,  compare  cases  like  *\iiyGyno/niay(ii,  *}.iyoy.O(;/ 

"*  Compare  Latin  specio  and  Sanscrit  sfd^ati  by  the  side  of  Greek  oxe-ta;. 

"*Fick,  Vorgriechische  Ortsnamen,  19.  There  are  many  such  cases  in  lan- 
guages other  than  Greek.  I  will  cite  only  the  very  complicated  one  given  by 
Cleasby  and  Vigfusson  {Icelandic-English  Dictionary,  777)  :  fra  ald-odel's  tid/ 
fra  arild's  tid,  in  which  Id  —  I  suffered  metathesis  to  /  —  Id  {aldodel  >  alodeld) 
and  then  dissimilation  to  r  —  ld  (alodeld  >  arodcld),  after  which  d  —  d  also 
suffered  dissimilation  and  became  — d  {arodcld  >  aroeld,  arild) . 


l6o  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

Xiayog,  *IlEXayav.6z/Il£)^aay6g.^^^  But  qtrag-on-  is  obviously  a  derivative 
of  qtrag-os/xgdyog  'goat.'  The  god  TQaqcov  or  Tarku  had,  then,  a  name 
to  be  compared  with  those  of  Apollo  Tragios,  Poseidon  Taurios,  etc. 
Traqon  is  a  prototype  of  Dionysus  and  Pan,  and  stood  in  the  same  rela- 
tion to  Cybele  (see  §  72)  that  Dionysus  and  Pan  held  to  Aphrodite- 
Artemis.  In  fact,  the  goat-god  Traqon  is  nothing  but  a  variant  of  the 
bull-god  and  horse-god  Thesippus,^^-  the  son  and  lover  of  Mother  Earth; 
for  all  are  at  bottom  weather  demons,  who  dwell  in  the  mountains,  the 
desert,  and  all  solitary  places.  The  relation  of  the  weather,  and  especially 
of  rain,  to  fertility  is  obvious.  And  the  association  of  the  goat,  the 
bull,  and  the  ass  "''  with  reproduction  was  natural. ^^"^ 

66.  A  Semitic  type  of  Traqon  is  depicted  as  the  god  of  fertility 
or  plenty  on  the  famous  rock  at  Ivriz.^^^  On  his  hat  are  four  pairs  of 
goat's  horns,  positively  confirming  our  etymology  of  his  name.  The 
goat  as  a  symbol  of  fertility  was  associated  chiefly  with  rain  and  the 
grape. "^  On  the  Ivriz  stone  Traqon  is  represented  as  grasping  in  his 
right  hand  a  grape  vine  with  dependent  clusters,  and  in  his  left  stalks 
of  grain.  This  relation  of  the  god  of  the  vine  to  the  goat  we  find  later 
in  the  case  of  Dionysus. ^^® 

67.  Besides  the  on/on-  stem  seen  in  TQaqcov,  Tqoxov-,  etc.,  we  find 
also  the  regular  (/-extension  ^^^  of  such  an  on/on-  stem,  namely  Tqo- 
x6v6ag.  This  ond/ond-  suffix  Kretschmer  ^^^  speaks  of  as  something 
un-Greek. 

68.  I  can  not  see  how  anyone  can  fail  to  recognize  the  second  part 
of  the  name  TaQxov-Srjjiog,  especially  when  he  knows  the  collateral 
TaQxov-8i[ioT05,  TaQxo-8i[i£VTog,  TaQxo-SrmevTog,  etc.  The  form  8i[xoTog 
for  SrmoTog  shows  the  rise  of  e  toward  i  that  we  find  in  Boeotian  and 
Thessalian,^^®  where  too  we  find  the  Hittite  ending  ond/ond,  see  above. 


"^TAPA.  44/188. 

'"The  horse  was  regarded  as  a  species  of  ass,  and  in  the  Euphrates  Valley 
was  called  sisu,  or  mountain  ass. 

"*Gruppe,  Griechische  Mythologie,  1384-1401.  The  whole  chapter  is  exceed- 
ingly instructive  in  connection  with  Traqon. 

""  CIH.  34,  CIH.  II  34.  A  very  good  reproduction  will  be  found  on  plate  57 
of  Garstang's  The  Land  of  the  Hittites. 

"' Gruppe,  Griechische  Mythologie,  822  etc. 

"'  Especially  Boeotia,  Euboea,  Thessaly  :    Brugmann,  II,  i,  §  3640?. 

'^^  Einleitung,  311,  363,  etc. 

'"  Buck,  Greek  Dialects,  §  16  and  a.  For  other  connections  between  Boeotia 
and  the  Javonian  Hittites,  see  Gruppe,  Griechische  Mythologie,  1724,  Boeotia. 

"•  TAP  A.  44/187. 


THE   TARCONDEMUS    BOSS — HEMPL  l6l 

The  same  change  is  seen  in  M etan/ Mitaan/ Mitani  ^^^ ;  probably  also  in 
Assyrian  Tarqudime.  The  nominative  6ri|iOTog  is  to  original  *brmoTT| 
as  the  genitive  brniOTOv  is  to  the  original  *8TmoTTig.  That  is,  bi\\ioxoq 
represents  a  complete  shift  to  the  inflection  of  o-stems,  just  as  brmotov 
does ;  while  the  usual  nominative  6T]|i6TTig  represents  only  an  approxima- 
tion to  the  second  declension.  Compare  jt^o(pTixog,  §  y2.  TuQxov-brmoTog/ 
TaQxov-8i|iOTog  is  clearly  reflected  in  such  forms  as  — 

TaQXG  —  briiiEVTog 
TaQxo  —  8i^EVTog 
TaQxo  —  8inavTog  ^^^ 

all  with  metathesis  of  v  from  the  dental  6  to  the  dental  t,  and  with 
dissimilation  of  o  —  o  to  £  —  o  or  a  —  o;  also  in  TaQxovSofioxog,  with 
assimilation  of  o  —  r\  —  o  —  o  to  o  —  o  —  o  —  o,  which,  however,  may 
Be  orthographic  only.  Names  in  -6fi!.iog  are  extremely  rare  in  compari- 
son with  those  in  -6ri|iOTog/-5i[xoTog,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
TQaqov-8T]|xog/TQoxov-8Tmog  (implied  in  Sfj^og  Tqoxov6t]vwv,  Kretschmer, 
page  363)  had  originally  exactly  the  same  meaning  as  TaQxo-SrmoTog/ 
TaQxo-8i[iOTog,  that  is,  'native  of  TaQxov-6fi|iog.'  This  is  made  perfectly 
clear  by  the  8fi|iog  TQOxov6r|vcov  above,  which  is  obviously  for  6fi|.iog 
TQoxov8ri[.i(jov  'the  district  of  the  Tpoxovfifjuoi,  or  inhabitants  of  Tqoxov- 
Sfjfiog.'  Compare  such  combinations  as  "die  Flur  und  Stadt  der  Freuden- 
stddter,"  die  Zignaiter  Aue,"  "the  village  of  Carter sz'ille,"  "London 
town,"  etc. 

69.  That  the  language  revealed  by  the  Hittite  characters  on  the 
Tarcondemos  Boss  is  Greek  can  not  be  called  in  question.  But  there 
is  nothing  in  the  characters  or  their  use  that  could  betray  dialect.  The 
district  sign  may  stand  for  Doric  ha\ioc,  as  well  as  for  Javonian  8f)|iog; 
and  so  our  text  may  be  either  Doric  Hittite  or  the  earlier  Javonian 
Hittite  (§1).  It  will,  however,  be  observed  that  Tarqudime,  the  Assyr- 
ian form  of  the  name,  reflects  Javonian  TpaqovSrinog  and  not  Doric 
Toaqov8ano(g).  Still,  the  name  on  our  Boss  might  be  T()aqov8a^iog  and 
the  Assyrian  form  be  based,  not  upon  this  particular  king's  name,  but 
upon  an  earlier  Javonian  form  of  the  same  name.^-^-^  All  this  has  not 
necessarily  anything  to  do  with  the  still  unidentified  language  of  the 
long  letter  from  Tusratta,  king  of  Medan,  to  Amenaphis  HI.  of  Egypt. 

"' Knudtzon,  Die  zxvei  Arzaiva  Brief c,  19. 

"*•*  Compare  English  Brunszvick,  which  is  not  from  Hijrh-Gernian  Braun- 
schiveig,  but  from  the  earlier  Low-German  form. 


l62  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

The  language  of  this  principaUty  varied  from  age  to  age  and  was  not 
always  the  same  as  that  of  its  rulers.^" 

70.  When  this  paper  had  long  been  finished  I  came  upon  Hommel's 
letters  to  Rylands,^-^  and  found  that  he  had  anticipated  me  in  the  identi- 
fication of  the  name  of  Traqon/Tarku  (§63).  His  letters  also  present 
two  Hittite  texts  that  bear  so  directly  upon  matters  treated  in  this  paper 
that  I  can  not  leave  them  unnoticed.  April  29,  1899,  Hommel  wrote 
as  follows. 

"In  a  prehistoric  tomb  at  Kedabeg,  N.  of  Goektchai-lake,  Mr.  Belck 
found  a  truncheon  (or  baton)  of  command,  with  the  following  signs 
on  top: — 

WIA 

comp.    Verhandlungen  der  Berliner  Anthropol.  Gesellsch.,  1893,  page  63. 
Now  it  seems  to  me  certain  that  we  here  have  a  Hittite  proper  name — 


Tarku-dara-s  (=god  Tarku  is  king).    Nobody  has  hitherto  seen  that 
these  signs  are  Hittite,  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  fact.  Comp.  seal, 

Schlumberger  6    Wjl/f     and  17      \M     ."     See  CIH.  i/i. 


71.  It  will  be  observed  that  Hommel  follows  Sayce  in  taking  the 
district  sign  for  a  sign  of  kingship  (see  §  33).    What  we  really  have  is— 


U/[U//  python  hgdwov 

/IK     district  6T][>iO(;/8a|xog 

handle  oi5g/cbg 


=  TQaqov6Ti[Aog/TQaqov8a[iog 


That  is,  simply  another  spelling  of  the  name  on  our  Boss.  The  handle 
here  furnishes  a  cumulative  spelUng  (§12)  of  the  final  syllable  -og, 
already  spelled  by  the  district  br\[io^/ba[iO!;.  Lake  Goektchai  is  in  Ar- 
menia, northeast  of  Medan,  the  capital  of  the  kingdom  of  Tarcondemus 

(§57)- 

"'Meyer,  Geschichte  dcs  Altertums,  2d  ed.  I.  2,  pages  592,  580;    also  TAP  A. 
44/188. 


THE   TARCONDEMUS    BOSS —  HEMPL 


163 


72.  April  10,  1899,  Hommel  wrote  concerning  Dr.  Hayes  Ward's 
cylinder  seal,  as  I  have  stated  above. ^-'  From  casts  furnished  by  Dr. 
Ward,  Mr.  Rylands  made  a  drawing,  which  I  here  venture  to  reproduce. 
We  find  three  lines  of  Hittite  text  and  a  priest  standing  between  two  sym- 
bolic effigies.  One  of  these  has  a  stag's  head  and  antlers  and  a  body 
consisting  of  the  coils  of  a  serpent,  with  the  tail  and  legs  of  a  bird. 
These  representatives  of  life  on  the  earth,  in  the  earth,  and  above  the 
earth, ^-*  are  clear  attributes  of  Gea,  or  Mother  Earth,  otherwise  known 


as  Ma,  Demeter,  Rhea,  Cybele,  etc.  The  other  effigy  consists  of  a  stand- 
ard supporting  horns  enclosing  the  orb  of  the  moon,  that  is,  the  attri- 
butes of  the  moon  goddess,  with  whom  Cybele  was  often  identified.  The 
first  line  of  Hittite  text  contains  the  name  of  'Great  Traqon'  (§64),  the 
second  that  of  'Great  Cybele,'  in  the  genitive  case,  each  name  being 
preceded  by  the  sign  of  supremacy  (§36).  We  have  found  the  shield 
used  to  spell  yo  (§48),  here  it  spells  v-v.  The  second  character  is,  as 
Hommel  points  out,  evidently  a  dove.  That  is,  neXeidg.  This  with  the 
preceding  xv  gives  us  KvPeX^ig  or  Kv^eXag  'of  Cybele.'    The  third  line  is — 

prow,  7tQ(bi[Qa]  \ 

Penis,  jtEfogl         ( 

handle,  o^?/d)g ) 

We  have  already  seen  (§68)  that  masculine  nouns  in  -t],  instead  of 
adding  -q  as  in  classical  Greek,  may  take  -og,  the  full  ending  of  the 
second  declension,  just  as  Attic  Greek  took  -ov  in  the  genitive.  This 
jteoqpT^Tog  would  thus  be  a  regular  Hittite  form  of  ;tQoq>r|Tric:  'one  who 

^PSBA.  1899,  21/224  etc. 

"*  Compare  the  beasts,  birds,  and  fish  on  the  Boeotian  vase,   Homes,    Urf;e- 
schichte  der  bildcnden  Kunst,  160,  and  Lichtenberg,  Die  Agdische  Kultur,  105. 
**  Miscopied  as  a  cleaver  (§46)    in  some  reproductions. 


164  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL   VOLUME 

speaks  for  (a  god),'  'representative,'  or  'interpreter.'  The  inscription 
would  then  read — 

Tgaqcov  KvPeXT]g  jtQoqpriTog 
'Traqon,  the  interpreter  of  Cybele.' 

That  is,  the  priest  identifies  himself  with  the  male  element  of  the  andro- 
gynaic  divinity.^^^  It  is  possible,  however,  though  I  think  less  likely, 
that  we  should  read — 

TQaqovog  KdPe?i.ti5  7tQO(py\xoq 

'The  interpreter  of  Traqon   [and]   Cybele,' 

taking  the  ass  as  spelling  -ovog,  as  on  the  Bulgar  Maden  Stone  (CIH. 
32/2,  see  §64),  where  the  intervening  conjunction  qe  'and'  (§7/1)  is 
written  out,  being  spelled  by  an  arroiu  xf][?iov],  as  in  — dxQov  Tpaqovog 
qe  qeTQo  qetQcov  '[son]  of  Great  Traqon  and  king  of  kings,'  CIH. 
52/2.  If  this  ;n:QO(pTiTog  is  Doric  (but  Jts6ia  was  not  necessarily  restricted 
to  Doric),  it  can  not  be  the  same  word  as  JtoocpriTTig/jiQGCpaTTig  (from 
cpVmL  'speak,'  ^/hha),  but  a  parallel  formation  (from  qpaivco  'reveal,' 
'expound,'  interpret,'  yjhhe,  jtQoq)aiva)  'reveal,'  foretell')  meaning  'inter- 
preter,' 'oracle,'  'prophet.'  This  spelling  of  the  name  of  Cybele  occurs 
frequently  on  the  stones  from  Carchemish. 


73.  It  is  obvious  that  the  discovery  that  the  Hittites,  as  well  as  the 
Minoans,  were  Greeks,  will  have  a  profound  influence  upon  our  concep- 
tions of  the  early  history  of  Greece  and  the  Near  East,  as  well  as  of 
the  early  civilization  of  Europe,  and  of  the  history  of  religions.  It 
Introduces  an  element  that  is  wholly  new  and  unexpected,  and  at  the 
same  time  it  makes  clear  and  congruous  numerous  elements  that  were 
known  but  not  understood  before ;  for  example,  the  transmission  of 
the  civilization  of  the  Euphrates  valley  through  the  lands  of  the  Hittites 
to  the  Greeks  of  the  west.^^^  In  the  matter  of  the  history  of  religion, 
I  may  call  attention  to  one  important  phenomenon.  Thesippus/Theseus 
(§34),  the  Hittite  bull-god,  the  god  of  the  mountains,  of  thunder  and 
lightning,  and  of  war,  reappears  in  Crete  differentiated  into  a  monster 
with  the  body  of  a  man  and  the  head  of  a  bull,  and  the  demigod  Theseus 
who  slew  him;    while  in  Attica  a  more   rational   differentiation  trans- 


'Gruppe,  1572,  9;    1331,  2;    1546,  2. 
'  Hogarth,  Ionia  and  the  East,  1909. 


TIIF,   TARCONDEMUS    BOSS —  HEMPL  165 

formed  the  bull-^od  into  the  fire-breathinp  hull  of  Marathon,  and  The- 
seus, llie  ^reat  national  hero  of  Athens,  who  captured  him  and  sacri- 
ficed him  to  Apollo.  This  same  Hittite  bull-god,  the  great  god  of  the 
mountains,  the  god  of  thunder,  lightning,  and  storm,'^*  the  god  of  war, 
whom  the  Hebrews  learned  to  know  when  they  absorbed  the  Hittites 
of  Syria,  reai)pcars  as  the  golden  calf  and  the  god  who  was  worshipped 
in  the  similitude  of  an  ox, — the  god  of  the  hills,  who  treadeth  upon  the 
high  places  of  the  earth,  who  roars  from  Zion,  who  hath  his  way  in  the 
whirlwind,  and  the  storm  and  the  clouds  are  the  dust  of  his  feet,  his 
fury  is  poured  out  like  fire,  and  the  rocks  are  broken  asunder  by  him, 
the  god  of  hosts,  the  god  of  the  armies  of  Israel.^"  The  gradual  slough- 
ing of  the  grosser  elements  of  the  cult  is  reflected  in  the  story  of  the 
conflict  between  Moses  and  his  followers  and  Aaron  and  his  party,  who 
clung  to  the  worship  of  the  god  in  the  tangible  form  of  a  molten  image ; 
and  in  the  account  of  Hezekiah's  destruction  of  the  images  and  of  the 
brazen  serpent,  whose  adoration  Moses  himself  was  said  to  have  en- 
couraged. 


""This   Hittite   wcather-god   was   akin   to  the   Syrian-Assyrian   Hadad/Adad 
and  the  Damascan-Babylonian  Rimmon/Rammon. 

'*Ward,  American  Journal  of  Semitic  Languages  and  Literature,  April   1909. 


A  NEW  EMOTIONAL  EFFECT  IN  TRAGEDY 
Frank  E.  Hill 

I 

ARISTOTLE,  to  whom  run  many  roads  in  the  realm  of  art-philosophy, 
tells  us  that  the  emotional  effect  of  the  tragic  drama  is  found  in  the 
L  excitation  of  pity  and  fear,  and  in  a  purgation,  or  katharsis,  of  these 
feelings  thru  their  very  awakening  and  exercise/  It  is  interesting  to  ap- 
ply this  Greek  judgment  concerning  drama  to  the  theaters  of  modern 
times.  There  is  no  doubt  but  that  the  spectator's  feeling  in  regard  to  trag- 
edy varied  greatly  during  the  twenty-two  hundred  years  from  Euripides 
to  Schiller.  Yet  thru  all  the  changes  which  nationality  and  environment 
have  wrought,  we  find  that  Aristotle's  phraseology  persists  in  a  curious 
fashion.  In  sixteenth,  in  seventeenth,  in  eighteenth  century  drama,  the 
attitude  of  the  audience  has  varied  greatly,  but,  oddly  enough,  not  to  the 
extent  of  arousing  and  purging  other  emotions  than  pity  and  fear. 
Changing  in  its  quality,  the  katharsis  has  been  constant  in  name.  New 
types  of  emotion  such  as  the  moral  sentiment  appealed  to  in  much  of 
Elizabethan  and  eighteenth  century  tragedy  have  fitted  under  Aristotle's 
phraseology  as  new  cases  fit  under  the  simple  wording  of  an  old  law  in 
which  an  unsuspected  elasticity  is  constantly  being  revealed.- 

The  question  I  propose  takes  us  beyond  pity  and  fear.  It  asks 
whether  we  do  not  find  in  nineteenth  and  twentieth  century  drama  an 
emotional  effect  which  the  magic  phraseology  of  our  Athenian  critic  will 
not  cover, — an  effect  new  with  nineteenth  century  life  and  the  nineteenth 
century  theater. 

I  am  aware  that  many  consider  tragedy  a  stranger  to  the  modern 
drama.  Our  contemporaneous  stage  does  not  give  us  plays  possessing 
"truth  of  argument,  dignity  of  persons,  gravity  and  height  of  elocution. 


'  Butcher's  translation  of  Aristotle's  Theory  of  Poetry  and  Fine  Arts,  p.  23. 
Macmillan,  London,  1907. 

*  Possibly  we  might  find  in  Seneca  and  in  such  Elizabethan  plays  as  Webster's 
White  Devil  a  new  emotional  element  in  the  form  of  horror.  The  close  kinship 
of  horror  to  fear,  however,  makes  distinction  somewhat  difficult,  and  of  dubious 
importance. 


NEW    EMOTIONAL    EFFECT    IN    TRAGEDY —  HILL  I67 

fullness  and  frequency  of  sentence."  ^  Indeed,  in  the  face  of  the  shop- 
girl and  butcher-boy  heroes  of  such  genuine  artists  as  Hauptmann, 
Brieux,  and  Galsworthy,  we  wonder  what  Jonson  and  Webster,  with  their 
rif^hteous  scorn  for  the  tragedy  which  their  contemporaries  asked  for, 
would  find  to  say  concerning  Justice,  Damai^ed  Goods,  or  Rosa  Bernd, 
as  candidates  for  the  buskined  stage.  Nevertheless,  confronted  as 
we  are  with  the  dearth  of  the  old,  acknowledged  tragedy,  we  arc  con- 
strained either  to  consider  modern  drama  as  tragic  material,  or  to  say 
that  tragedy,  save  as  a  ghost,  walks  abroad  no  more.  Many  have  chosen 
the  former  course.  And  in  its  justification  it  must  be  said  that  the  serious 
plays  of  our  own  time  have  in  one  sense  a  fundamental  identity  with 
acknowledged  tragedy.  They  are  to  be  distinguished  from  comedy  not 
only  by  their  tone — a  sometimes  uncertain  criterion — and  not  only  by 
the  catastrophe  which  marks  their  ending,  but  by  the  machinery  thru 
which  this  catastrophe  is  brot  about.  They  meet  the  description  which 
Mr.  VV.  L.  Courtney  has  given  of  exhibiting  "a  clash  of  two  powers- 
necessity  without,  freedom  within  ;  outside,  a  great,  rigid,  arbitrary  law 
of  fate ;  inside,  the  moderated  individual  will,  which  can  win  its  spiritual 
triumphs  even  when  all  its  material  surroundings  and  environment  have 
crumbled  into  hopeless  ruin."  ■*  In  other  words,  they,  together  with  the 
Greek  or  Shakespearean  tragedies,  ofTer  us  a  hero,  a  power  hostile  to 
him,  and  the  struggle  rising  from  the  clash  between  the  two.  In 
Sophocles'  Edipus  the  King  we  gain  a  sense  of  an  unequal  conflict 
between  a  potent  human  soul  and  a  pitiless  supernatural  anger.  In 
Macbeth  we  are  aware  of  a  similar  mortal  spirit  pitted  against  self 
and  circumstances.  In  Hauptmann's  The  Weavers,  in  Mr.  Gals- 
worthy's Strife,  we  find  the  same  appalling  conflict, — man  on  one  side, 
a  Force  beyond  him  on  the  other.  The  identity  is  not  destroyed  by  the 
fact  that  in  the  latter  plays  the  destructive  agency  seems  to  reside  in  the 
organization  of  human  society  rather  than  in  the  malevolence  of  an 
Olympus.' 

Considering  our  modern  drama  as  tragedy,  then,  on  account  of  its 
structure,  and  of  its  position  as  the  most  vital  form  of  serious  dramatic 
art  of  our  day,  I  wish  to  ask  whether  there  has  not  come  with  it  an  emo- 
tional effect  different  from  that  which  past  tragic  spectacles  have  offered. 
Are  pity  and  fear  the  only  emotions  aroused  and  purged  in  the  spectator 


'Sec  Jonson's  preface  to  Sejanus.  Webster's  preface  to  the  White  Pn-il 
is  interesting  in  giving  a  similar  Elizabethan  ideal  for  tragedy. 

*  The  Idea  of  Tragedy,  by  W.  L.  Courtney,  p.  12.     Rrentano's,  New  York.  1900. 

•For  an  explanation  of  the  nature  of  the  tragic  Force  in  each  of  the  types 
represented  here,  the  reader  is  referred  to  the  second  division  of  this  study. 


l68  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL   VOLUME 

of  twentieth  century  tragedy?  Owing  to  lack  of  space,  and  to  the  fact 
tliat  a  few  well-known  examples  will  be  readily  admitted  as  typical,  I 
shall  consider  five  plays  only  from  the  multitude  presented  by  the  theater 
of  today.  These  five  are  Ibsen's  Ghosts,  Hauptmann's  The  Weavers, 
Brieux's  La  Petite  Amie,  Galsworthy's  Justice,  and  Giacosa's  The 
Stronger.  Do  these  and  the  type  for  which  they  stand  present  an  emo- 
tional eflfect  new  in  tragedy  ? 

II 

Let  us  begin  our  inquiry  with  a  consideration  of  that  toward  which 
all  tragedy  works,  and  which  in  established  tragedy  marks  the  height  of 
our  pity  and  fear, — the  catastrophe.  What  has  caused  this  catastrophe 
in  the  older  types  of  tragedy,  and  what  causes  it  in  the  most  modern  type? 
Undoubtedly  the  element  which  in  both  kinds  of  drama  may  be  held 
accountable  for  the  hero's  fall  is  the  Tragic  Antagonist,  or  the  Force 
which  works  against  the  leading  character  in  the  play.  Some  critics  have 
characterized  this  Force  as  Fate  in  Greek  tragedy,  and  in  the  Elizabethan 
tragedy  have  considered  it  to  be  a  defect  in  the  protagonist's  will,  or  a 
marshalling  of  hostile  wills  of  other  characters  against  the  hero. 
Opposed  to  this  definite-minded  group  of  critics  (or  shall  we  call  them 
hasty-minded?)  is  another  group  with  a  tendency  to  deny  the  simple 
quality  in  the  Antagonist  of  both  Attic  and  early  modern  drama.  These 
writers  find  the  hero's  fall  to  be  due  to  mingled  causes,— not  only  to  the 
power  of  the  gods,  but  to  environment  and  the  character  of  the  hero ;  not 
only  to  a  defect  in  will  or  the  opposing  wills  of  others,  but  to  circum- 
stances and  the  mystery  of  Fate  as  well.  Even  these  non-absolutists,  how- 
ever, tacitly  admit  the  dominant  place  which  so-called  Fate  occupies  in  the 
Hellenic,  and  so-called  Will  occupies  in  the  Elizabethan  or  classical  French 
drama.®  Their  quarrel  is  more  with  the  obscuration  of  other  forces 
than  with  an  acknowledgment  of  preeminence  in  the  case  of  one.  Indeed, 
the  testimony  of  tragedy  itself  forces  the  admission  of  a  characterizing 
element  in  the  Force.  The  Greek  hero  testifies  continually,  almost  dis- 
mally, to  the  destructive  proclivities  of  his  gods. 

"O  ruthless  Fate!    To  what  a  height  thy  fury  hath  soared," 

"All  that  I  can  touch 
Is  falling — falling — round  me,  and  o'erhead 
Intolerable  destiny  descends," 

"Ah  Zeus,  why  this  stern  hate  against  thy  son?" 

•For  an  example  of  what  is  meant,  compare  pp.  29-31  and  p.  40  in  Mr.  Lewis 
Campbell's  Tragic  Drama  in  Aeschylus,  etc. 


NEW    EMOTIONAL    EFFECT    IN    TRAGEDY  —  HILL  169 

are  typical  of  the  stress  laid  upon  divine  anger  by  the  Attic  protagonist.^ 
In  Elizabethan  tragedy  we  find  the  nature  of  the  Antagonist  varied,  but 
thru  the  variation  emphasis  on  human  character  and  will  stands  out 
strongly.  Marlowe's  Dr.  Faustus  and  Edward  II  illustrate  the  type  in 
which  the  real  source  of  trouble  is  an  inherent  weakness  in  the  hero, 
while  Macbeth  is  an  example  of  a  play  with  a  more  complicated  cause 
for  disaster.  Nevertheless,  it  would  not  be  unfair  to  quote  of  the  entire 
seventeenth  century  stage  what  Mr.  Bradley  has  said  of  Shakespeare: 
"The  dictum  that,  with  Shakespeare,  'Character  is  destiny,'  is  no  doubt 
an  exaggeration,  and  one  that  may  mislead  (for  many  of  his  tragic 
personages,  if  they  had  not  met  with  peculiar  circumstances,  would  have 
escaped  a  tragic  end,  and  might  even  have  lived  fairly  untroubled  lives)  ; 
but  it  is  the  exaggeration  of  a  vital  truth."*  Nor  would  it  be  unfair  to 
refer  the  reader  to  Milton's  Samson  Agonistes,  where  the  careful  way 
in  which  the  poet  offers  God  a  buckler  by  thrusting  responsibility  on  the 
hero  is  an  extreme  yet  fundamentally  characteristic  example  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  attitude,  especially  in  England.  Says  Samson  from  his 
pain : 

Appoint  not  heavenly  disposition,  father. 
Nothing  of  all  these  evils  hath  befallen  me 
But  justly;    I  myself  have  brought  them  on; 
Sole  author  I,  sole  cause.     If  aught  seem  vile, 
As  vile  hath  been  my  folly,  who  profaned 
The  mystery  of  God,  given  me  under  pledge 
Of  vow,  and  have  betrayed  it  to  a  woman, 
A  Canaanite,  my  faithless  enemy."  * 

Surely  there  is  a  gulf  between  this  tragic  fault,  mounting  to  the  sole 
cause  for  disaster,  and  the  Greek  Hubris. 

Without  discussing  further  a  problem  whose  solution  to  date  has 
always  depended  much  upon  the  attitude  of  the  solver,  I  wish  to  suggest 
an  analysis  of  the  Antagonist,  the  destructive  Force,  in  Attic  and  Eliza- 
bethan tragedy.  May  we  not  say  that,  granting  the  presence  of  other 
elements,  the  main  factor  in  the  Greek  ruining  power  is  Fate  or  the 
power  of  the  gods?  And  may  we  not  assume  that  in  most  of  Elizabethan 
tragedy  human  personality,  or  Will,  holds  a  parallel  position?  If  we  may 
assume  this,  we  may  analyze  our  respective  Antagonists  as  follows : 


*See  King  Oedipus,  Lewis  Campbell's  translation,  i,  1309-10;  Antigone,  Lewis 
Campbell's  translation,  i,  1340-1342;  and  The  ^fadness  of  Heracles  in  Euripides 
in  English  Verse,  by  A.  S.  Way,  p.  398. 

'Shakespearean  Tragedy,  by  A.  C.  Bradley,  p.  13-     Macmillan,  London,  1912. 

*  Poetical  Works  of  John  Milton.  U,  602.    Macmillan,  London,  1890. 


170  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL   VOLUME 

Greek  =  Fate  +  Personality  +  Circumstances. 
Elizabethan  =  Personality  +  Circumstances  +  Fate.^° 

This  representation  is  crude.  It  assumes  the  presence  of  two  distinct 
types,  whereas  what  we  have  is  a  tendency  toward  types,  as  well  as 
instances  of  reversion  from  the  later  to  the  earlier.  But  this  much  is  true : 
around  either  one  of  these  two  kinds  of  Antagonist  the  destructive  power 
of  all  influential  tragedy  down  to  1840  revolves ;  separate  plays  may  show 
individual  traits,  but  the  source  of  ruin  which  they  present  may  be  classed 
under  one  of  the  two  analyses  given  above.  If  the  reader  will  accept  this 
as  true,  bearing  in  mind  that  I  do  not  wish  to  make  his  acceptance  a  van- 
tage point  for  deductions  other  than  those  concerning  general  emotional 
effect,  we  may  turn  to  modem  tragedy. 

What  factors  make  the  destructive  power  in  such  dramas  as  Ghosts, 
The  Weavers,  and  Justice f  Are  the  same  elements  present  in  it  as  in 
the  Antagonist  of  the  older  types?  Unquestionably  the  identical  ele- 
ments are  in  evidence.  We  might  say,  for  instance,  that  the  father  of 
Andre  Logerais,  hero  of  La  Petite  Amie,  with  his  violent  objection  to 
his  son's  desired  marriage  with  a  shop-girl,  is  personally  responsible  for 
Andre's  and  Marguerite's  suicide.  We  might  say  that  Csesare  Nalli  in 
Giacosa's  The  Stronger  is  accountable  for  his  own  misery  and  for  that 
of  his  son  Silvio;  has  he  not  been  guilty  of  unscrupulous  business 
methods,  and  has  he  not  carefully  hidden  his  practices  from  his  son? 
And  we  might  suggest  that  the  catastrophe  in  Justice  is  due  to  the  linsey- 
woolsey  quality  of  Falder's  character.  In  Ghosts  and  in  The  Weavers  we 
might  play  with  the  idea  of  Fate,  shifting  Olympus  to  Norway  or  Silesia. 

But  tho  we  may  find  personality  a  factor,  and  may  seem  to  find  Fate 
a  factor,  in  the  modern  tragic  Antagonist,  I  would  question  whether, 
as  we  examine  the  works  of  Brieux,  of  Giacosa,  of  Galsworthy,  of  Ibsen 
and  Hauptmann,  we  can  sincerely  claim  either  personaUty  or  Fate  to  be 
the  chief  element  in  the  destructive  agency  of  our  modern  plays.  If  we 
look  carefully  at  La  Petite  Amie  we  are  impressed  with  the  almost  sym- 
boUcal  nature  of  Logerais  pere.  He  is  the  French  father  oppressing  his 
son,  and  his  power  to  oppress  finds  its  source  in  the  laws  of  France  and 
the  typical  attitude  of  the  French  parent  toward  the  French  child. 
Logerais  is  in  this  sense  Andre's  environment.  If  he  is  a  symbol  for  a 
thousand  others,  like  them  the  result,  the  utilizer  of  conditions,  is  it 
possible  for  us  to  exalt  the  personal,  present  and  strong  as  it  is,  above 
the  social   element?     Logerais  the   type   merges   his   individuality   into 


"Fate,  of  course,  must  be  separated  from  Fate-in-Circumstances.     The  latter 
element  is  considered  as  identical  with  "Circumstances." 


NEW  EMOTIONAL  EFFECT  IN  TRAGEDY —  HILL  I7I 

what  he  represents, — environment.  The  power  to  dominate  the  early 
life  of  his  child,  to  choose  his  school,  later  his  profession,  later  his  wife, 
later  still,  because  of  the  French  law,  to  ruin  his  chance  of  earning  a 
livelihood, — all  this  is  given  to  Logerais  by  social  conditions,  and  the 
gift  emphasizes  these  conditions  and  detracts  from  the  importance  of 
personality. 

No  less  do  circumstances  play  a  part  in  The  Stronger  and  Justice. 
Csesare  is  not  a  villain,  lying  in  wait  to  bludgeon  his  son  with  the 
iniquitous  character  of  his  money.  His  intentions  were  of  the  best.  He 
wished  all  along  for  nothing  more  than  Silvio's  happiness.  Neither  was 
he  conscious,  as  he  amassed  his  fortune,  of  any  guilt  in  the  methods  he 
used.  He  "played  the  game"  as  he  found  it.  H  his  success  means  the 
ruin  and — thru  the  nervous  shock— the  death  of  his  enemy  Lamais,  he 
cannot  be  held  responsible.  Not  to  win  was  to  have  been  beaten.  In 
order  to  win  he  must  stifle  niceties  of  conscience.  He  thus  appears  as 
the  result  of  the  modern  financial  system.  On  the  other  hand  Falder, 
weak  and  pitiful,  presents  the  result  of  attitudes  and  systems  as  well 
as  the  result  of  a  weak  personality.  Indeed,  the  very  feebleness  of  the 
hero  gives  tone  and  vitality  to  the  fatal  net  around  him, — the  meshes 
of  distrust,  coldness,  rigidity  in  the  economic  world,  and  the  impersonal, 
maddeningly  monotonous  character  of  the  prison  world— thru  which 
he  breaks  into  death. 

Even  more  decisively  do  conditions  of  society  color  the  Antagonist 
in  Ghosts  and  The  Weavers.  If  we  remember  Fate  as  it  exists  in  Attic 
and  Elizabethan  tragedy,  we  shall  see  the  inherent  difference  between 
it  and  the  environment  appearing  in  our  two  modern  tragedies.  To 
the  Greeks,  to  Shakespeare,  Fate  meant  mystery.  It  was  unknown, 
super-human ;  beyond  the  earth,  tho  affecting  it.  It  is  this  mysterious, 
intangible  quality  in  the  old  Destiny  to  which  Mr.  O.  E.  Lessing  refers 
when  he  says  of  Hebbel  that  he  was  the  first  to  go  into  the  dialectics 
of  the  Idea;  Hebbel,  and  Ibsen  after  him,  explained,  made  reasonable 
for  the  first  time,  the  tragic  Force.  Instead  of  unknown  gods,  they  gave 
social  organization  and  social  habits,  things  of  common  contact  and 
apprehension."  Conditions,  then,  if  they  be  "Fate,"  are  no  more  iden- 
tical in  quality  with  the  Greek  Fate  than  the  God  of  modern  Christianity 
is  with  an  Egyptian  cat.  Both  the  former  destroy,  both  the  latter  were 
worshiped;    yet  to  find   identity  between   the  two  members   of   either 

^^rilparzcr  and  the  Modern  Drama,  by  O.  E.  Lessing,  p.  3-  Of  course  the 
Elizabethan  Force,  in  so  far  as  it  was  personal,  was  understandable.  Certain  other 
elements,  such  as  the  hints  of  a  super-human  power  in  Macbeth  partly  reveal,  are 
not  understandable.    See  A.  C.  Bradley,  Shakespearean  Tragedy,  26-39. 


172  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL   VOLUME 

group  would  be  pertinaciously  absurd.  In  the  case  of  Ghosts  Brandes 
has  stated  clearly  the  nature  of  the  Antagonist.  He  said  of  the  play 
in  1881 : 

"Even  Mrs.  Alving,  who  has  been  so  sorely  wronged  by  circum- 
stances, believes  that  under  other  conditions  she  might  be  happy.  .  .  . 
And  Ibsen  is  evidently  of  her  opinion.  .  .  .  Life  itself  is  not  an 
evil.  Existence  itself  is  not  joyless.  No,  some  one  is  to  blame,  or  rather, 
many  are  to  blame,  when  a  life  is  lost  to  the  joy  of  Ufe;  and  Norwegian 
society,  depressing,  coarse  in  its  pleasure,  enslaved  to  conventional  ideals 
of  duty,  is  pointed  out  as  the  culprit."  ^^ 

Brandes'  judgment  can  hardly  be  called  too  strong.  Search  as  we 
will,  we  can  find  no  genuine  tragic  fault  in  Mrs.  Alving.  Search  as  we 
will,  we  can  find  nothing  attributable  to  personal  hostility  or  to  malevo- 
lent deity,  unless  we  wish  to  put  social  vices  outside  the  power  and 
responsibility  of  mankind.  Conditions,  environment, — not  Fate,  are  domi- 
nant in  Ghosts. 

In  The  Weavers  we  discover  the  same  essential  situation.  Fate  is 
the  price  of  fustian,  the  attitude  of  society  at  large  toward  the  workers. 
Dreissiger,  the  pitiful  capitalist,  Hauptmann  has  clearly  made  a  mere 
instrument  of  conditions.  His  plea  that  higher  wages  would  mean  his 
own  ruin  is  much  the  truth;  he  does  not  establish  the  market  price,  as 
do  his  present  American  business  cousins.  And  in  Circumstances  as  the 
Antagonist  there  is  nothing  mysterious,  nothing  Olympian.  Their  inexor- 
ability, their  terrible  dignity,  are  resident  in  the  system  under  which  men 
live.  They  are  tangible,  Fate  intangible ;  they  find  an  identity  with  Fate 
only  in  their  capacity  to  inflict  suflfering. 

I  propose,  then,  that  for  the  type  of  modern  drama  which  we  have 
been  examining,  an  Antagonist  should  be  acknowledged  whose  leading 
feature  is  Circumstances, — the  formula  might  read  Circumstances  -f" 
Personality.  The  reader  can  see  the  contrast  between  this  Force  and 
the  older  types : 

Greek  =  Fate  -j-  Personality  -\-  Circumstances 
Elizabethan  =  Personality  -\-  Circumstances  -|-  Fate 
Modern  =  Circumstances  +  Personality 


"Ibsen,  Bjornson:   Critical  Studies,  by  George  Brandes,  p.  52.    William  Heine- 
mann,  London,  1899. 


NEW    EMOTIONAL    EFFECT    IN    TRAGEDY  —  HILL  I73 

III 

Let  us  now  return  to  the  question  of  emotional  effect.  The  leading 
element  in  the  modern  Antagonist,  we  have  seen,  is  Circumstances,  or 
Social  Environment.  This,  in  such  dramas  as  Ghosts,  causes  the  catas- 
trophe. And  Social  Environment,  no  less  than  the  Forces  of  past 
tragedy,  arouses  the  traditional  feelings  of  pity  and  fear.  The  spectator 
knows  these  emotions  naturally  and  logically  as  he  watches  the  tragic 
struggle  of  any  modern  hero  or  heroine,  be  it  Mrs.  Alving  in  Ghosts 
or  Laura  Murdock  in  our  own  Mr.  Walter's  The  Easiest  Way.  But 
one  interesting  thing  must  be  noted  concerning  the  modern  source  of 
ruin.  It  is  alterable.  The  audience  cannot  live  to  see  Mrs.  Alving's 
environment  changed,  for  the  heroine  of  Ghosts  is  past  help,  but  it 
can  live  to  see  old  conditions  made  new  and  different  for  her  future 
sisters.  This  possibility  of  change  was  not  present  in  the  old  Forces  to 
any  degree.  In  the  Greek  Antagonist  it  can  hardly  be  said  to  have 
existed.  The  Gods  never  changed,  and  the  Gods,  as  we  have  seen,  domi- 
nate the  tragic  situation  in  the  Attic  theater.  In  the  Ajax  of  Soph- 
ocles we  might  say  that  a  warning  against  pride  is  given,  and  hence  the 
spectator  may  feel  the  possibility  of  changing  himself,  and  of  seeing 
humanity  changed.  But  Ajax  is  the  exception  in  Greek  tragedy,  and 
the  moral  lesson  it  bears  hardly  vital.  The  Greek  katharsis  was  not  a 
stimulant  to  better  behavior,  but  a  mere  purgation.  Usually  the  hero's 
fault  was  decorative  rather  than  essential, — the  moral  was,  to  be  rever- 
ential of  the  Gods,  but  it  was  hardly  believed  that  tragedy  would  change 
human  nature.  Circumstances,  of  course,  were  not  considered  as  alter- 
able. In  its  own  eyes,  the  Greek  state  was  not  open  to  constant  change. 
There  was  an  alterability  in  the  Antagonist  of  Elizabethan  tragedy, 
but,  as  I  have  stated,  not  such  a  capacity  for  change  as  we  find  in  the 
modern  Force.  Such  possibility  of  remedy  as  existed  lay  in  the  specta- 
tor's personal  feeling.  The  beholder  of  the  play  in  many  instances  saw 
the  fall  of  an  obviously  bad  or  weak  character,  and  he  might  take  to 
heart  the  lesson  he  had  witnessed.  Indeed,  it  is  on  record  that  he  did 
this,  if  we  may  believe  Hamlet.  The  prince  says  (Act  ii,  sc.  ii, 
lines  625  ff.)  : 

"I  have  heard 
That  guilty  creatures  sitting  at  a  play 
Have  by  the  very  cunning  of  the  scene 
Been  struck  so  to  the  soul  that  presently 
They  have  proclaim'd  their  malefactions, 
For  murder,  though  it  have  no  tongue,  will  speak 
With  most  miraculous  organ." 


174  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

In  the  case  of  Lille's  George  Barnwell — Elizabethan  in  its  funda- 
mental structure,  record  says  that  spectators  took  the  lesson  offered,  and 
changed  their  evil  ways.^^ 

It  will  be  seen,  however,  that  the  changeability  in  the  modern  and 
the  Elizabethan  Forces  is  vastly  different  in  quality  and  degree.  One 
can  change  himself  if  he  is  able — we  are  not  too  sure  of  our  power, — 
but  he  faces  a  vague  and  delicate  problem  when  it  comes  to  changing 
the  personal  character  of  his  neighbor.  Indeed,  he  is  usually  unaware  of 
iniquities  in  himself,  and  has  his  neighbor's  hidden  from  him.  On  the 
other  hand,  he  can  see  social  ills  with  more  distinctness,  and  the  remedy 
is  fairly  definite, — perhaps  education,  perhaps  legislation.  In  the  modern 
Antagonist,  alterability  is  a  direct  matter.  The  spectator  goes  to  change 
what  he  has  seen,  and  knows  that,  granting  sufficient  social  cooperation, 
it  can  be  changed.  In  the  Elizabethan  Antagonist,  alterability  was  not 
a  direct  matter.  First  the  spectator  must  see  that  he  could  apply  the 
lesson  to  himself.  Next  he  must  realize  that  he  needed  to  have  it 
applied.  In  the  third  place,  he  must  be  able  to  apply  it  effectively.  In 
the  fourth  place,  he  must  know  that  all  his  neighbors  would  follow  his 
example.  May  we  not  say  that  the  alterability  of  the  Elizabethan  Force 
was  a  nebulous  affair  compared  to  that  of  the  modern?  May  we  not 
call  it  "alterable  in  a  sense  only"?  If  so,  we  might  view  our  three  Antag- 
onists once  more,  and  in  reference  to  alterability,  as  follows: 

Greek  =  Fate  (unalterable)  +  Personality   (practically  negUgible) 
-f- Circumstances   (unalterable). 
Elizabethan  =  PersonaUty   (alterable  in  a  sense  only)  +  Circumstances 
(unalterable^*)  +  Fate  (unalterable). 
Modern  =  Circumstances    (alterable)  +  Personality    (alterable  in  a 
sense). 

Now  if  the  spectator  of  modern  tragedy  views  a  catastrophe  the 
source  of  which  is  visibly  the  result  of  social  environment,  hence  visibly 
alterable,  will  he  not  have  a  two-fold  consciousness?  Will  he  not  in  the 
first  place  feel  a  personal  concern,  almost  a  personal  responsibility,  for 


"  Introduction,  p.  xiv,  by  A.  W.  Ward  to  The  London  Merchant  and  Fatal 
Curiosity  by  George  Lillo.     D.  C.  Heath,  Boston,  1906. 

"  Such  "circumstances"  as  appear  in  Elizabethan  tragedy  are  mostly  those  of 
accident,  of  happening,  etc. — such  as  Desdemona's  pleading  for  Cassio  and  loss  of 
the  handkerchief,  or  Duncan's  visit  to  Macbeth's  castle.  Social  circumstances  were 
never  seriously  shown  as  conditions  to  be  changed — unless  the  substitution  of  one 
king  for  another  were  held  up  as  a  remedy  for  them.  Then,  of  course,  personality, 
not  circumstances,  was  the  real  source  of  trouble. 


NEW    EMOTIONAL    EFFECT    IN    TRAGEDY  —  HILL  I75 

the  distressing  situation  which  he  witnesses?  Could  the  beholder  of 
Ghosts,  for  example,  escape  an  awareness  of  his  own  presence  in,  his 
own  contribution  to  a  society  where  licentiousness  was  causing  insanity? 
Perhaps  he  might  escape  it,  but  only  by  denying  to  himself  the  truth  of 
the  picture  presented.  If  he  grants  its  fidelity,  he  must  feel  some  degree 
of  responsibility  for  the  disaster  he  has  witnessed.  If  he  is  normal  he 
will  feel  uneasy,  will  think  vaguely  of  the  possibility  of  mending  matters; 
if  he  is  a  man  of  keen  conscience  he  may  feel  a  deep  shame  and  a  defi- 
nite desire  to  right  the  unfortunate  conditions  he  has  seen  at  work.  Of 
course  the  intensity  of  the  spectator's  urge  to  action  will  vary  with  the 
play  he  views.  And  of  course  with  any  desire  to  change  goes  a  hope 
that  change  will  be  effected. 

The  spectator  thus  feels  pity,  fear,  and  shame — shame  that  he  lives 
in  a  world  which  permits  the  horror  he  sees — and  with  the  shame,  some- 
thing of  hope, — not  for  the  present  hero,  but  for  any  person  who  in  the 
future  might  be  placed  in  the  hero's  situation.  The  shame  and  the  hope 
are  social ;  they  arise  from  the  portrayal  of  society's  influence  on  the  in- 
dividual ;  they  contemplate  a  refining  of  this  influence.  This  emotional 
effect,  of  course,  could  not  have  come  before  the  nineteenth  century.  It 
is  a  reflection  of  a  nineteenth  and  twentieth  century  type  of  life  and  thot, 
— it  suggests  that  our  tragedy  may  be  more  individual  than  we  had 
imagined.'* 

"But,"  the  objector  will  say,  "you  are  putting  upon  the  helpless 
spectator  a  load  he  need  not  bear.  Why  must  he  feel  more  than  pity 
and  fear?  Are  you  not  giving  him  a  psychological  sense  more 
appropriate  to  a  doctor  of  philosophy  than  to  a  mere  citizen?"  I 
answer.  No.  Admittedly  the  modern  spectator  is  not  conscious  of  his 
consciousness,  but  he  is  conscious.  Neither  the  Greeks  nor  the  Eliza- 
bethans analyzed  the  pity  and  fear  they  felt ;  no  more  do  our  modern 
audiences.  They  do  not  analyze,  but  they  do  feel.  We  are  justified  in 
saying  that  they  do  for  two  reasons. 

In  the  first  place,  logic  assures  us  of  their  feeling.  We  have  seen 
that  social  circumstances  are  the  destroying  power  in  the  type  of  modern 
tragedy  which  we  are  discussing.     This  being  so,  the  question  arises : 


"  I  am  indebted  to  Professor  R.  M.  Alden  for  a  suggestion  as  to  the  attitude 
we  should  have  toward  the  class  of  drama  under  discussion.  Unquestionably  in 
former  times  there  was  a  parallel  to  the  social  aspect  of  modern  tragedy  in  comedy, 
where  the  follies  of  society  may  be  said  to  have  been  exhibited.  It  is  a  question 
whether  the  sensations  of  shame  and  hope  may  not  represent  a  transference  of  an 
effect  from  comedy  to  tragedy;  may  not,  indeed,  represent  a  sort  of  breaking  down 
of  the  barriers  between  the  two  forms. 


1^6  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL   VOLUME 

Can  the  half  dozen  leading  dramatists  of  the  age,  can  their  numerous 
imitators,  do  so  poorly  what  we  know  they  have  done,  that  the  audiences 
which  view  their  plays  may  go  on  forever  viewing,  yet  forever  failing 
to  comprehend  them?  Can  these  artists  charge  their  pieces  with  the 
dynamite  of  a  new  idea,  and  leave  the  public  deaf  to  the  ensuing  explo- 
sion ?  Inconceivable  indeed !  Where  Ibsen  and  Hauptmann  depict  soci- 
ety as  a  destroying  force,  the  spectator  will  see  it  as  a  destroying  force. 
And  if  he  sees  it  as  such,  will  he  remain  insensate  as  to  his  power  to 
mend,  as  a  part  of  society,  what  society  has  done  wickedly  or  mistakenly? 
It  is  hardly  believable  that  he  should  fail  to  realize  his  position,  if  only 
dimly.  He  will  see  what  society  is  doing;  in  some  degree  he  will  feel 
himself  a  part  of  society,  in  some  degree  he  will  realize  the  possibility 
of  altering  it. 

Of  this  much  logic  assures  us.  But  history  repeats  this  assurance. 
Some  evidence  we  have  of  the  actual  emotional  effect  of  various  modern 
dramas,  and  such  testimony  as  exists  is  clearly  to  the  fact  that  the 
audience  that  watches  plays  such  as  Ghosts  and  The  Weavers  not  only 
should  feel  shame  and  hope,  but  actually  does. 

Let  us  notice  this  evidence.  It  comes  to  us  mostly  not  as  direct 
testimony,  but  in  the  form  of  manifestations — in  word  or  deed — on  the 
part  of  the  spectators  of  our  modern  tragedy.  Naturally,  then,  it  requires 
interpretation.  For  instance,  we  have  the  reviews  of  Ghosts  written 
by  Mr.  Clement  Scott  of  the  Daily  Telegraph  and  Mr.  A.  Watson  of  the 
Standard  on  the  occasion  of  the  first  presentation  of  Ghosts  to  a  London 
audience.  In  the  eyes  of  these  critics — and  the  fact  that  Ghosts 
is  now  forbidden  the  English  stage  is  indicative  that  they  roughly  repre- 
sent the  attitude  of  a  large  body  of  Englishmen— in  the  eyes  of  these 
critics  Ibsen's  drama  was  something  distinctly  dangerous.  Mr.  Wat- 
son proposed  its  suppression.  Both  critics  seemed  fearful  of  its 
effect  on  the  English  public.  The  British  government  apparently  shared 
this  view.^®  How  shall  we  interpret  such  a  manifestation?  We  might 
say  that  it  was  a  manifestation  of  British  decency,  of  fear  for  the 
molestation  thereof.  And  in  a  degree  we  might  be  correct  in  so  saying. 
Yet  common  sense  assures  us  that  English  modesty  cannot  be  held 
wholly  accountable.  For  our  Britisher  has  a  regard  for  a  truth  once  he 
believes  in  it.  And  if  Ghosts  were  simply  too  direct,  but  nevertheless 
true,  we  can  hardly  conceive  of  its  receiving  the  abuse  which  was  its 

^"For  an  interesting  if  prejudiced  account  of  the  reception  given  Ibsen's 
tragedy,  see  Mr.  G.  B.  Shaw's  The  Quintessence  of  Ibsenism,  3  flf.  Brentano's,  New 
York,  1905. 


NEW    ExMOTlONAL    EFFECT    IN    TRAGEDY  —  IIILL  177 

lot  March  14,  1891.  And  the  critics  themselves  by  objecting  to  the  facts 
which  the  play  presents,  show  ns  the  real  situation. ^^  Ghosts,  to  critics 
and  government,  was  a  false  picture  of  society.  As  a  false  picture  of 
society,  the  play  was  considered  dangerous.  Just  what  the  dangers  which 
it  held  were  supposed  to  be,  we  may  not  know.  But  it  is  very  reasonable 
to  conclude  that  when  the  picture  Ibsen  painted  was  rejected,  something 
was  felt  in  the  nature  of  a  fear  that  many  beholders  of  the  play  might 
accept  the  picture,  realize  society  as  the  culprit,  and  create  dissatisfaction 
with  the  world  as  it  existed.  In  other  words,  it  is  roughly  implied  in  the 
hostile  reception  to  Ghosts  that  if  the  spectator  accepts  the  situation 
presented  by  the  play,  he  will  feel  uneasiness,  shame,  and  with  these 
feelings  some  sort  of  a  desire  to  change  matters. 

A  tacit  implication  that  the  audience  will  see  the  tragic  Antagonist 
in  social  circumstances,  and  will  be  moved,  perhaps  to  action,  at  least 
to  dissatisfaction,  seems  to  front  us  in  the  case  of  The  Weavers  as 
well  as  in  that  of  Ghosts.  For  the  German  government  prohibited  the 
production  of  Hauptmann's  drama,  with  its  picture  of  oppressive  econ- 
omic conditions.  In  conjunction  with  the  government  prohibition  we 
have  much  critical  opinion  suggestive  of  the  emotional  effect  of  the 
play.  Albert  Soergal  says,  "Not  only  the  German  people  but  the  whole 
civilized  world  has  cause  not  to  let  this  portrayal  be  forgotten,  in  order 
to  prevent  the  return  to  such  shameful  conditions."  '*  "He  paints  the 
picture,"  says  James  Huneker  of  Hauptmann,  "the  audience  draws  the 

indictment."  ^® 

In  a  similar  way  Galsworthy's  plays  seem  to  affect  the  audience. 
The  hostile  Mr.  Howe  says  of  them:  "Our  tragic  emotion  in  the  face  of 
Mr.  Galsworthy's  drama  would  be  expressed  in  such  words  as:  'Yes,  I 
suppose  that's  quite  true.  What  are  they  going  to  do  about  it?'  We 
may  go  so  far  as  to  wonder  quite  actively  what  ought  to  be  done."  " 
We  know  that  in  at  least  one  case,  that  of  Justice,  a  change  in  laws 
has  followed  the  Englishman's  portrayal  of  tragedy-making  conditions. 

The  identical  quality  of  making  the  audience  see  the  source  of  woe, 
and  feel  its  ability  to  alter  this  source,  seems  present  in  the  works  of 
M.  Brieux.  Mr.  Clayton  Hamilton  suggests  the  effect  I  speak  of  when 
he  says  of  M.  Brieux's  The  Red  i?ofc^— "Not  only  is  it  enthrallingly 
dramatic,  but  also  its  attack  on  the  iniquity  of  the  French  judicial  sys- 
tem is  immediately  pertinent  to  the  iniquity  of  our  own  politics."     And 

^id,  6. 

^^Dichtcr  und  Dichtnng  dcr  Zeit,  by  Albert  Soergcl. 

'' Iconoclasts,  by  James  Huneker,  p.  8.     Chas.  Scribner's  Sons,  New  York,  1908. 

*>  Fortnightly  Review,  C,  739. 


178  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

shortly  after  making  this  statement  he  indicates  the  attitude  of  the 
American  audience  toward  the  modern  serious  drama  in  general  in  the 
statement:  "Damaged  Goods  made  money,  because  the  people  wanted 
to  listen  to  a  lecture  on  syphilis ;  Maternity  will  not  make  money  because 
people  do  not  want  to  listen  to  a  lecture  on  motherhood."  ^^ 

I  could  go  on  to  cite  evidence  of  public  feeling  in  parallel  cases  of 
less  important  dramas.  American  society,  for  instance,  has  manifested 
a  sort  of  shame,  a  sort  of  will  to  action,  in  the  face  of  such  plays  as 
Kindling,  Fine  Feathers,  Bought  and  Paid  For,  etc.  True  enough 
it  is  that  the  manifestation  is  definitely  seen  only  in  comment,  but  it 
is  sufficient  for  us  to  see  the  psychological  reaction,  for  it  is  with 
this,  and  not  with  actual  social  changes,  that  we  are  concerned.  I  think 
that  the  reader  will  supplement  from  his  own  reading  and  experience 
the  evidence  I  have  given  concerning  the  attitude  of  the  audience  toward 
our  modern  tragedy.  To  give  further  instances  would  be  to  do  what 
is  unnecessary  because  so  easy, — to  swell  the  quantity  without  changing 
the  quality  of  the  proof. 

Aristotle  gave  the  emotional  effect  of  the  tragedy  he  knew  in  the 
following  sentence:  "Tragedy  ...  is  an  imitation  of  an  action 
that  is  serious,  complete,  and  of  a  certain  magnitude ;  ...  in  the 
form  of  action,  not  of  narrative;  through  pity  and  fear  affecting  the 
proper  purgation  of  these  emotions."  --  As  I  have  pointed  out,  tho 
the  emotional  effect  has  been  altered,  until  the  nineteenth  century  the 
phrasing  of  the  ancient  critic  has  covered  the  various  changes  which  have 
taken  place.  It  does  not  seem,  however,  to  cover  many  examples  of 
modern  drama ;  in  our  twentieth  century  tragedy  the  spectator  feels 
more  than  pity  and  fear.  Let  us  say,  then,  that  for  such  dramas  as  we 
have  examined  in  this  study,  the  phrasing  definitory  of  emotional  effect 
should  read  "thru  pity,  fear,  and  shame  effecting  the  proper  purgation 
of  these  emotions,  and  with  shame  arousing  a  will  toward  changing 
certain  conditions  of  human  life,  and  a  hope  that  such  change  as  is 
desired  may  take  place."  This  re-definition  will  cover  elements  in  the 
emotional  effect  of  our  modern  tragedy  which  the  long-used  definition 
of  Aristotle  does  not  include. 


"  The  Bookman,  XL,  639-640. 

=°  Aristotle's  Theory  of  Poetry  and  the  Fine  Arts,  p.  23.   S.  H.  Butcher's  trans- 
lation.    Macmillan,  London,  1907. 


THE  MAIN  SOURCE  OF  SPEECH-SOUNDS  AND 
THE  MAIN  CHANNELS  OF  THEIR  SPREAD 

Hermann  Hilmer 

THIS  ARTICLE  IS  the  outgrowth  of  ideas  first  advanced  in  a  book 
on  "Schallnachahmung,  Wortschopfung  und  iiedeutungswandel" 
which  I  pubUshed  some  time  ago/  Some  of  the  arguments  and 
illustrations  in  that  book  are  repeated  here,  as  far  as  seemed  necessary 
for  the  present  purpose.  That  this  article  was  written  is  in  no  small 
measure  due  to  Professor  Fliigel,  who,  from  motives  of  friendship  as 
well  as  of  scholarship,  discussed  with  me  the  different  phases  of  my  book 
and  thus  stimulated  me  to  further  develop  and  formulate  my  theories. 
The  thoughts  that  thus  took  shape  under  the  spell  of  his  personality  may 
perhaps  not  be  unw^orthy  as  homage  to  his  memory. 


Language  is  a  means  of  communicating  concepts  through  speech- 
sounds.  A  speech-sound  associated  with  a  concept  in  the  minds  of  the 
people  speaking  a  common  language  is  called  a  word.  The  relationship 
among  words  is  due  to  the  association  of  concepts  with  each  other.  The 
speech-sounds,  being  merely  symbols,  cannot  affect  the  association  of 
concepts,  although  they  may  and  do  help  us  in  tracing  them.  The  ques- 
tion, tlierefore,  whether  there  are  universal  and  definite  trends  in  lan- 
guage growth,  resolves  itself  into  an  inquiry  whether  there  are  universal 
and  definite  trends  in  the  associations  of  concepts. 

Associations  of  speech-sounds  and  concepts  with  each  other  may  be 
due  either  to  "original"  (primary)  association,  in  which  case  the  speech- 
sound  stands  for  no  other  concept  at  the  time  this  association  is  made; 
or  to  "transference,"  in  which  case  the  speech-sound  is  bound  up  with 
another  concept  at  the  time  the  new  association  comes  about. 

Associations  by  transference  take  place  through  the  medium  of  a 
sentence.  The  term  'sentence'  as  used  here  signifies  not  merely  the 
syntactical  structure  so  called,  but  any  expression  in  language  which 
conveys  a  complete  thought.  It  may  consist  of  a  single  word,  its  mean- 
ing being  fixed  more  definitely  by  the  circumstances  under  which  the  word 
is  uttered.     By  means  of  the  sentence  it  is  possible  to  define  or  limit  the 

Werlag  von  Max  Nicmeyer,  Halle  a/S,  1914. 


l8o  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

meaning  of  a  word  in  such  a  way  that  its  concept  changes.  For  instance 
the  verb  "to  grasp"  meant  originally  no  doubt  "to  take  hold  of  some 
physical  object."  By  using  the  word  in  the  sentence  "he  grasps  the  prob- 
lem," it  takes  on  an  entirely  different  signification,  namely,  "to  under- 
stand." If  this  new  meaning  becomes  established  in  the  minds  of  the 
people  of  a  community,  independent  of  a  sentence,  then  the  process  of 
associating  the  speech-sound  with  this  new  concept  is  completed.  Along 
with  the  new  association,  older  meanings  of  the  word  may  continue  to 
exist.  Most  words  as  one  finds  them  listed  in  the  dictionary  stand  for 
quite  a  number  of  different  concepts. 

The  fundamental  forms  of  language  are  the  noun  (together  with 
the  adjective)  and  the  verb,  in  accordance  with  the  physical  universe  as 
reflected  in  the  human  mind.  All  other  word  forms  are  either  derived 
from  these  or  (if  in  some  cases  one  may  speak  of  other  words  as  due  to 
original  associations  of  speech-sound  and  concept)  they  are  negligible 
as  far  as  this  investigation  is  concerned.  This  article,  then,  has  to  do 
merely  with  nouns  and  verbs,  and  to  some  extent,  in  a  supplementary 
way,  also  with  adjectives. 

An  analysis  of  any  language  will  show  that  there  are  two  funda- 
mentally different  means  by  which  speech-sounds  may  be  transferred. 
It  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  they  be  clearly  understood  and  dis- 
tinguished. In  fact,  one  of  the  main  reasons  why  the  science  of  semasi- 
ology has  not  yielded  any  really  tangible  results  thus  far,  is  the  failure 
to  make  this  distinction. 

In  the  first  place,  the  speech-sound  may  travel  from  concept  to  con- 
cept without  change  of  form  (excepting  gradual  phonetic  changes)  or 
of  grammatical  function :  that  is,  a  noun  remains  a  noun,  a  verb  a  verb, 
and  an  adjective  an  adjective.  The  direction  of  this  kind  of  transference, 
which  will  be  called  'direct  transference,'  is  from  a  less  complex  to  a 
more  complex  concept  and  from  a  concrete  to  an  abstract  one.^  The 
important  point  to  be  noted  is,  that  the  speech-sound  moves  only  in  one 
direction  and  cannot  go  back  over  the  same  route.  Thus  one  may  call 
a  human  being  on  account  of  his  clumsiness  "a  lump,"  which  means 
originally  a  shapeless  mass ;  but  one  cannot  reverse  this  process  and  call 
a  shapeless  mass  "a  man,"  because  a  man,  even  a  clumsy  one,  has  char- 
acteristics that  do  not  pertain  to  a  shapeless  mass.  Similarly,  one  may 
refer  to  an  inexperienced  person  as  "green,"  because  green  generally  is 


^As  concrete  concepts  are  considered  all  concepts  which  are  based  directly 
on  sense  impressions.  However,  the  matter  is  more  complicated  than  can  be  stated 
here. 


ORIGIN    OF    SPEECH-SOUNDS  —  HILMER  ISI 

the  color  of  unripe  veg-etation  ;  but  it  would  not  occur  to  anybody  to 
speak  of  a  green  color  as  "inexperienced." 

Second,  the  speech-sound  may  be  transferred  by  "composition." 
This  term,  as  used  here,  implies  not  only  the  putting  together  of  speech- 
sounds  and  the  corresponding  merging  of  their  concepts,  but  it  stands 
likewise  for  cases  in  which  the  speech-sound  changes  its  grammatical 
function,  even  if  its  outward  form  remains  the  same ;  for  instance, 
when  in  English  the  word  "house,"  meaning  a  dwelling,  is  used  to  point 
out  the  action  of  putting  someone  or  something  into  a  house,  as  in  "to 
house  the  people  who  have  lost  their  homes."  To  class  such  a  case  as 
composition  may  be  justified,  on  the  ground  that  in  changing  the  gram- 
matical function  of  the  word,  as  determined  by  its  position  in  the  sen- 
tence, some  formal  element  is  added  to  it  which  was  not  there  before. 
Through  composition  a  speech-sound  may  travel  in  almost  any  direction 
(excepting  in  a  few  special  cases  which  will  not  be  considered  here),  for 
the  possibilities  in  this  respect  are  as  great  as  is  the  power  of  the  human 
mind  to  associate  the  most  different  concepts  with  each  other. 

If  the  speech-symbols  traveled  only  by  direct  transference,  or  if  this 
development  proceeded  separately  from  composition,  it  would  be  an  easy 
matter  to  trace  the  channels  through  which  language  develops.  In  reality, 
however,  these  two  kinds  of  transference  are  inextricably  interwoven.  A 
speech-sound  may  travel  for  a  certain  distance  through  direct  transfer- 
ence, in  other  words  in  a  definite  direction  away  from  its  starting  point ; 
then  by  composition  it  may  change  its  course  entirely  and  possibly  get  back 
again  to  the  point  from  where  it  started.  As  a  word  in  itself  bears  no 
evidence  of  the  concepts  its  speech-sound  may  have  been  associated  with 
before  it  reached  the  place  where  it  is  encountered  at  a  given  time,  it  is 
in  most  cases  impossible  (excepting  for  w^hat  light  one  may  be  able  to 
get  by  comparing  words  of  similar  phonetic  structure)  to  trace  its  course. 

The  foregoing  considerations  make  it  plain  that  our  search  for  uni- 
versal and  definite  trends  in  language  growth  is  doomed  to  failure  from 
the  outset,  if  we  start  from  complex  concepts.  The  fact  that  such  con- 
cepts are  sometimes  named  by  original  association  does  not  alter  this,  for 
under  but  slightly  different  circumstances  the  concept  in  question  might 
have  received  its  speech-sound  by  one  of  the  possible  associations  through 
transference  which  its  complexity  would  invite.  As  the  conditions  under 
which  such  a  complex  concept  may  be  conceived  are  too  numerous  and 
unstable  to  admit  of  analysis,  its  association  with  this  or  that  speech- 
sound  in  preference  to  others  may  be  regarded  as  accidental.  For  in- 
stance, the  English  dialect  word  "knock"  meaning  a  clock,  may  be  as- 


l82  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL   VOLUME 

Slimed  to  have  originated  through  the  imitation  of  the  sound  of  a  clock. 
But  the  clock,  for  all  we  know,  might  just  as  well  have  been  called  a 
"watch,"  a  "dial,"  a  "time-piece,"  a  "chronometer,"  or  even  a  "timer," 
an  "hour-teller,"  a  "day-divider"  or  by  some  other  name  not  yet  found 
in  the  dictionary;  just  as  the  Germans  call  the  same  thing  "uhr"  and  the 
French  "horologe,"  from  the  Latin  "hora"  and  "horologium." 

The  ideal  starting  point  for  our  investigation  would  be  a  concept  of 
such  a  nature  that  any  person,  in  any  place,  at  any  time,  under  any  cir- 
cumstances could  not  name  it  otherwise  than  by  original  association.  If 
there  existed  such  concepts,  they  must  be  based  upon  sense  impressions 
pure  and  simple ,  obtained  in  such  a  way  that  they  precluded  any  analysis, 
so  that  the  mental  activity  of  all  persons  undergoing  them,  from  the 
most  inexperienced  child  to  the  wisest  man,  would  be  at  zero. 

Such  absolutely  ideal  starting  points  are  of  course  impossible,  for 
there  is  nothing  in  nature  within  human  ken  which  might  not  under  cer- 
tain conditions  be  analyzed  by  someone.  Nevertheless  there  are  some 
concepts  which  approach  this  ideal  very  closely.  For  this  investigation 
only  those  of  them  are  important  that  are  obtained  through  the  sense 
of  sight ;  all  others  are  neghgible.  Sound  impressions,  although  of 
relatively  slight  importance  as  bases  for  concepts,  have  however,  great 
significance  as  models  for  speech-sounds.  This  will  be  considered  fur- 
ther on. 

The  concepts  in  question  are  of  two  kinds :  First,  the  three  most 
general  concepts  of  outhne  (or  of  things,  inasmuch  as  the  outline  estab- 
lishes the  material  existence  of  a  thing),  namely,  of  a  mass, — that  is  of 
a  physical  unit  without  definite  shape;  of  a  projection,  that  is,  the 
outline  of  a  mass  which  rises  above  a  background ;  and  of  a  depres- 
sion, that  is,  the  outline  of  the  imprint  of  a  mass  into  a  background. 
Second,  the  simplest  concepts  of  action ;  namely,  of  short,  relatively 
quick  motions  of  things  in  one  direction, — as  a  blow  or  a  fall. 

All  these  concepts,  it  will  be  noted,  are  very  vague.  They  must  be 
so  of  necessity,  as  the  impressions  on  which  they  are  based  must  be  fleet- 
ing and  without  interest  to  the  person  experiencing  them ;  for  as  soon 
as  a  thing  or  an  action  arouses  the  interest  of  the  observer,  he  will  anal- 
yze it,  and  the  chances  that  the  resulting  concept  will  be  named  by  origi- 
nal association  becomes  less  in  the  measure  that  he  does  so.  This  con- 
sideration leads  to  the  question,  why  concepts  depending  upon  such  fleet- 
ing and  uninteresting  impressions  should  be  associated  at  all  with  speech- 
sounds  ;  for  nobody,  it  would  seem,  will  give  a  name  to  something  in 
which  he  is  not  interested.   The  answer  is  that  such  associations  suggest 


ORIC;iN    OF    SPEECH-SOUNDS — IlILMER  183 

themselves  without  any  mental  effort,  inasmuch  as  the  phenomena  which 
induce  the  concepts  in  question  are  bound  up  with  sound, — namely,  the 
sound  of  a  body  striking  another.  The  imitations  of  such  sounds  become 
the  symbols  for  the  concepts  so  induced. 

Thus  arise  three  kinds  of  words :  namely,  first,  namtfs  for  the  sound 
itself,  as  "dump,  the  sound  of  a  heavy  body  falling,  a  thud" ;  second, 
names  for  short,  quick  motions,  as  "dump,  to  strike  with  a  dull,  abrupt 
thud";  third,  names  for  a  mass  (or  a  mass  forming  a  projection),  as 
"dump  (chiefly  U.  S.),  a  pile  or  heap  of  refuse  or  other  matter  'dumped' 
or  thrown  down" ;  or  a  depression,  as  "pit,  an  indentation  like  that  made 
by  a  raindrop  in  the  sand."  (Cf.  "pit,  the  sound  of  something  small 
striking,  as  a  raindrop.")  Phenomena  which  may  give  rise  to  these 
three  kinds  of  words  are  quite  frequent.  They  must  have  been  among 
the  very  first  which  human  beings  perceived  and  named,  and  they  are 
still  the  most  common  occurrences.  A  few  examples  may  be  pointed 
out :  A  piece  breaks  off  from  a  rock  or  a  tree,  falls  to  the  ground  with  a 
thud,  and  comes  to  rest  as  a  mass  or  a  projection,  or  it  causes  a  depres- 
sion in  the  ground.  A  raindrop  falls  and  imprints  its  shape  on  the  sand, 
or  the  foot  of  a  human  being  or  of  an  animal  makes  a  track.  A  human 
being  throws  a  stone,  or  he  hits  something  with  an  implement  and  knocks 
off  a  piece,  or  he  cuts  a  chip  out  of  something,  thus  causing  a  depression. 
Such  examples  may  easily  be  multiplied.  Needless  to  say,  other  concepts 
than  the  ones  mentioned  may  likewise  be  associated  with  the  sound  of  a 
blow  and  named  after  an  imitation  of  that  sound ;  for  instance,  the  con- 
cepts of  many  implements.  But  as  such  concepts  are  of  a  complex 
nature,  involving  ideas  of  purpose,  utility,  etc.,  in  addition  to  images  of 
refined  and  complicated  outlines,  they  are  quite  liable  to  be  named  by 
transference,  and  hence  do  not  concern  us  here. 

The  number  of  speech-sounds  that  may  be  used  as  imitations  of  the 
sound  of  a  blow  is  very  large.  The  best  imitations  are  generally  mono- 
syllabic roots  with  short  vowels  and  final  stops.  There  is.  however,  some 
latitude  in  this  respect.  Differences  in  the  sound  perceived  are  to  some 
extent  graded  in  the  imitations.  This  is  particularly  true  of  the  vowels. 
A  dull,  heavy  sound,  such  as  proceeds  from  a  heavy  body  striking,  is 
generally  represented  by  the  "u"  vowel,  possibly  by  the  "o" ;  while  the 
"i"  preferably  imitates  a  light  sound.  Differences  in  the  consonants,  as 
indicating  different  kinds  of  blows,  are  not  so  easily  accounted  for,  al- 
though in  some  cases  even  that  is  possible.  The  speech-sounds  actually 
chosen  as  imitations  depend,  of  course,  on  the  language  in  which  they 
are  used.  A  German,  for  instance,  will  not  use  a  symbol  like  "thud,"  for 
the  simple  reason  that  he  is  not  in  the  habit  of  pronouncing  such  a  sound. 


184  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

Speech-sounds  that  are  already  associated  in  the  minds  of  a  com- 
munity with  definite  concepts  will,  naturally,  not  be  allowed  to  enter 
the  language  as  imitations,  as  long  as  the  old  association  persists.  This 
is  the  general  principle ;  but  the  matter  is  more  complex  than  may  be 
stated  and  considered  here.  The  principle,  however,  can  be  reasoned  out. 
If,  for  instance,  one  perceives  a  foot  making  a  track,  a  depression,  in  the 
ground,  quite  a  number  of  sound  imitations  as  names  for  this  depression 
may  suggest  themselves :  as  "track,  tack,  tap,  pat,  hack,  etc."  Let  us 
suppose  now  that  "tap"  becomes  the  name  for  a  depression  in  the  ground 
made  by  a  human  foot.  It  is  plain  that  as  long  as  this  association  per- 
sists no  other  imitation  would  enter  the  language  as  a  symbol  for  such 
a  depression.  But  if  the  symbol  "tap"  travels  on  to  some  other  concept, 
if,  as  may  easily  happen,  it  becomes  the  name  for  a  vessel  (cf.  Bav.  dial, 
"tapp,  Gefasz  in  welches  die  Milch  zum  Rahmen  gegossen  wird"),  then 
the  path  would  be  clear  for  some  other  imitation,  say  "track,"  to  be  asso- 
ciated with  the  concept  of  a  depression  made  by  a  foot.  The  speech- 
sound  "tap,"  on  the  other  hand,  as  long  as  it  remained  in  the  language, 
would  prevent  a  new  imitation  "tap"  from  entering.  But  let  us  suppose 
that  the  word  "tap"  underwent  a  phonetic  change :  that  it  changed  to 
"topf"  (cf.  "Topf,  tie  feres  Gefasz  von  Ton  oder  Metall")  ;  then,  it  is 
plain,  the  path  would  be  clear  for  "tap"  to  enter  the  language  again,  other 
circumstances  permitting.  Thus  the  two  factors,  change  of  meaning  and 
change  of  sound,  act  as  gatekeepers,  so  to  speak,  which  control 
the  entrance  of  imitations  into  the  language.  It  may  be  stated  in 
passing  that  language  growth  not  only  in  its  initial  stages  but  as  a  whole 
is  subject  to  these  two  forces. 

The  origin  of  a  word  from  sound  imitation  is  not  always  evident. 
This  may  sometimes  be  due  to  the  fact  that  the  speech-sound  in 
question  is  a  very  poor  imitation.  Far  more  important  in  this  respect, 
however,  is  the  meaning  of  the  word.  Other  conditions  being  not  unfav- 
orable, original  associations  due  to  sound  imitation  are  easily  recognized 
as  such  when  the  word  designates  the  sound  itself.  If  the  word  points 
out  a  motion  which  is  apt  to  produce  a  sound,  its  onomatopoetic  origin  is 
usually  likewise  evident.  But  if  it  refers  to  a  thing,  especially  to  a  lifeless 
and  motionless  thing,  its  origin  from  sound  imitation  is  not  evident.  The 
following  examples  will  illustrate  these  different  cases :  "dump,  the  sound 
of  a  heavy  object  falling."  Seeing  that  the  speech-symbol  corresponds 
to  the  sound  that  the  concept  points  to,  this  word  will  readily  be  recog- 
nized as  due  to  sound  imitation.  A  somewhat  different  concept  associ- 
ated with  "dump"  is  the  following:   "a  fall  of  a  heavy  object  producing 


ORIGIN    OF    SPEECH-SOUNDS  —  KILMER 


a  dull  sound."  Here  the  concept  has  reference  no  longer  directly  to  the 
sound,  but  to  a  motion ;  but  since  the  sound  is  a  determining  factor  in 
the  description  of  the  motion,  this  word,  too,  will  impress  most  English- 
speaking  persons  as  onomatopoetic.  Less  apparent  is  this  in  "dump 
(chiefly  U.  S.),  to  throw  down  in  a  lump  or  mass,  as  in  tilting  anything 
out  of  a  cart" ;  although  the  concept  of  a  heavy  body  or  mass  thrown  to 
the  ground  is  very  apt  to  conjure  up  the  idea  of  a  sound  such  as  is  bound 
up  with  such  a  fall,  especially  since  the  speech-sound  "dump"  points  to 
it.  With  the  word  "dump,  to  unload,"  where  the  concept  has  reference 
to  a  falling  and  striking  mass  only  indirectly,  we  would  need  special  cir- 
cumstances to  remind  us  that  the  word  arose  from  sound  imitation. 
Least  of  all  is  one  likely  to  connect  the  idea  of  sound  with  a  mass  that 
has  no  apparent  connection  with  sound  or  motion,  such  as  is  indicated 
in  the  word  "dump,  anything  short,  thick,  and  heavy."  To  get  on  the 
track  of  the  possible  onomatopoetic  origin  of  such  a  word,  it  is  necessary 
to  realize  that  it  may  proceed  from  the  same  phenomenon  which  gives 
rise  to  the  first  word  of  this  series,  namely  "dump,  the  sound  of  a  heavy 
object  falling." 

The  number  of  such  imitations  entering  the  language  of  a  highly 
developed  people  is  comparatively  small  at  a  given  time,  but  amounts 
to  a  large  number  in  the  course  of  centuries.  Their  significance, 
however,  does  not  lie  merely  in  this,  but  above  all  in  the  vast  opportuni- 
ties for  further  transference  that  their  original  association  with  the  three 
most  general  concepts  of  outline  and  of  short,  quick  motions  offers.  (The 
concepts  of  the  sounds  of  short,  quick  blows  will  be  omitted  from  further 
consideration,  seeing  that  there  are  but  few  concepts  in  the  realm  of 
sound  beyond  those  originally  associated  with  speech  symbols. )  To  get 
a  clear  view  of  this,  it  is  advisable  to  eliminate  some  factors  which  might 
perhaps  obscure  the  issue.  First:  All  phonetic  changes  and  the  compli- 
cations they  involve  will  be  taken  for  granted.  Second :  Language  has 
developed  with  man ;  there  never  can  have  been  a  time  when  there  were 
not  speech-symbols  for  all  the  concepts  current  in  a  community ;  in  other 
words,  there  never  can  have  existed  a  "clear  track,"  so  to  speak,  for  all 
the  possibilities  of  transference  for  a  given  speech-sound.  We  will. 
however,  assume  such  a  clear  track,  and  furthermore  we  will  imagine 
that  there  existed  at  the  time  all  the  original  associations  of  concepts  and 
speech-sounds  that  would  come  about  under  normal  conditions.  Third: 
The  number  of  original  associations  in  a  language  at  a  given  time  is 
comparatively  small,  but  many  concepts  (particularly  those  with  which 
this  investigation  has  to  do)   are  associated  over  and  over  again  with 


l86  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

new  symbols,  the  old  ones  passing  on  to  other  concepts,  unless  they  get 
lost  altogether.  To  simplify  matters,  we  will  regard  all  the  speech-sounds 
that  in  the  course  of  time  become  originally  associated  with  one  and  the 
same  concept  as  a  type,  and  speak  of  them  as  of  one  symbol.  Fourth 
and  last:  We  will  eliminate  all  transferences  by  composition,  so  that  we 
have  to  deal  only  with  direct  transferences.  This  step  is  justifiable  on 
the  ground  that  composition  is  possible  only  on  the  basis  of  the  vocabu- 
lary developed  through  direct  transference  from  original  associations, 
and  that,  in  general,  the  speech-symbols  which  start  with  the  best  chances 
for  direct  transference  (on  acount  of  the  nature  of  the  concepts  with 
which  they  are  originally  associated)  would  likewise  have  the  best 
chances  for  transference  by  composition.  Moreover,  the  basic  concepts 
m  the  human  mind  are  the  concepts  of  forms  and  actions;  and  these 
are,  even  in  a  highly  developed  stage  of  civilization,  as  a  rule  most  con- 
veniently named  by  direct  transference,  as  far  as  they  are  not  associated 
originally  with  speech-symbols. 

These  obscuring  factors  eliminated,  it  is  now  possible  to  get  a  clear 
view  of  the  opportunities  for  transference  of  speech-sounds  originally 
associated  with  the  three  most  general  concepts  of  form  and  with  the 
concepts  of  short,  quick  motions,  as  over  against  the  opportunities  of 
speech-sounds  originally  associated  with  any  other  concepts.  First,  the 
three  most  general  concepts  of  form  (or  of  things,  inasmuch  as  the  out- 
line determines  the  thing)  will  be  compared  with  other  concepts  of 
things;  and  second,  the  concepts  of  short,  quick  motions  (the  most 
fundamental  concepts  of  action)  will  be  compared  with  other  concepts 
of  action. 

The  original  association  of  speech-sounds  with  each  of  the  three 
most  general  concepts  of  things  may  arise,  as  has  been  pointed  out,  from 
one  and  the  same  phenomenon.  Moreover,  a  speech-sound  may  be  trans- 
ferred from  the  concept  of  a  mass  to  that  of  a  projection,  and  vice  versa, 
seeing  that  a  projection  may  conjure  up  the  concept  (and  with  it  the 
name)  of  a  mass,  and  that  a  mass  may  remind  one  of  a  projection. 
Similarly,  the  concepts  of  a  projection  and  a  depression  may  exchange 
their  symbols,  because  one  and  the  same  sight  impression  may  give  rise 
to  either  the  concept  of  a  projection  or  that  of  a  depression — it  depends 
on  the  point  of  view.  In  addition,  there  are  other  opportunities,  too  com- 
plicated to  be  considered  here,  for  the  interchange  of  the  symbols  of 
these  concepts.  From  these  considerations  it  is  advisable  not  to  deal 
separately  with  the  three  channels  of  development  which  start  from  the 
original  names  for  a  mass,  a  projection,  and  a  depression,  but  to  treat 
them  together. 


ORIGIN    OF    SPEECH-SOUNDS —  HILMER  187 

The  concepts  of  a  mass,  a  projection,  and  a  depression  are  the  least 
complex  concepts  of  things  possible ;    hence  speech-sounds  travehng  by 
direct  transference  must — in  accordance  with  the  law  explained  before — 
move  away  from  these  concepts  and  not  towards  them.     Furthermore, 
these  concepts  are  likewise  the  most  general  concepts  of  things ;    hence 
speech-sounds  associated  with  them  can  reach  either  immediately  or  by 
successive  steps  any  other  concepts  of  things.     This  fact  would  not  be 
so  very  important  if  the  large  number  of  other  concepts  of  things  which 
are  within  immediate  reach  of  the  speech-sounds  proceeding  from  the 
three  most  fundamental  ones,  w^ere  likewise  liable  to  be  named  by  original 
association.    But  this  is  not  at  all  the  case,  for  most  of  the  things  in  ques- 
tion  are   silent    and    motionless,    and   preclude   that    possibility.^      Some 
things,  especially  implements,  may  be  named,  under  favorable  conditions, 
after  the  sound  issuing  from  them.    The  concepts  of  these  things,  how- 
ever, contain,  in  addition  to  the  image  of  definite  outlines,  ideas  of  pur- 
pose, utility,  etc. ;    and  this  condition  does  not  oiTer  their  symbols  favor- 
able chances  for  spreading  far  to  other  fields  of  concepts  by  direct  trans- 
ference.    The  relative  importance  of  the  symbols  originally  associated 
with  the  concept  of  a  mass,  a  projection,  and  a  depression  as  over  against 
the  symbols  originally  associated  with  any  other  concepts  of  things,  may 
be  illustrated  by  the  picture  of  the  system  of  pipes  supplying  a  city  with 
water.    If  a  fluid  of  a  certain  color,  say  green,  should  be  forced  into  the 
mains  at  the  pumping  station  and  at  the  same  time  other  colors  into  a 
number  of  small  branch  pipes,  then  these  other  colors  would  of  course 
leach  a  number  of  districts  before  the  green  color  could  get  there,  but  the 
area  of  these  districts  would  be  insignificant  compared  with  the  territory 
covered  by  the  green.     The  speech-sounds  associated  w'ith  the  concepts 
of  a  mass,  a  projection,  and  a  depression  correspond  to  the  green  fluid. 
In  reality,  of  course,  direct  transference  cannot  be  kept  apart  from 
composition,  as  has  been  explained.    There  are,  however,  a  large  number 
of  things  so  constituted  that  they  are,  as  a  rule,  most  naturally  and  con- 
veniently named  directly  after  a  mass,  or  a  projection,  or  a  depression. 
These  are  particularly  objects  in  nature  and  some  other  things  with  which 
one  associates  generally  no  other  idea  than  the  image  of  their  shape.    Of 
this  English  and  German,  especially  the  dialects  of  these  languages,  oflfer 
abundant  proof.     Thus  from  the  concepts  of  a  mass  or  a  projection  are 
transferred  names  for  the  most  varied  kinds  of  bodies,  lumps,  chunks, 
blocks,  knobs,  knots,  etc. ;    and  furthermore,  names  for  all  sorts  of  pro- 


'  An  analysis  of  all  the  possible  sources  of  speech-symbols  cannot  be  attempted 
here ;    it  will  be  found  in  the  book  mentioned  before. 


l88  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

jections  and  elevations,  from  the  tiniest  speck  to  the  mightiest  mountain, 
from  the  gently  rounded  hill  to  the  steepest  cliff,  from  the  point  to  the 
edge.    Then  there  are  projections  which  lie  in  a  plain,  as  corners,  angles, 
bends,  jetties,  etc.    In  the  same  way  the  original  symbols  for  a  depression 
pass  on  to  the  concepts  of  all  kinds  of  pits,  dents,  holes,  caves — in  fact 
to  the  concepts  of  those  things  which  present,  so  to  speak,  the  opposite 
pictures   to  projections.      Somewhat    farther    removed    from    original 
sources,  but  still  in  a  direct  line,  are  the  concepts  of  a  great  variety  of 
projections  on  plants,  as  buds,  knots,  knurls,  nodes,  fruits ;   and  on  living 
creatures,  as  knuckles,  joints,  bones,  and  other  projecting  parts ;   as  well 
as  many  projections  and  depressions  on  things  made  by  man,  for  instance, 
on  buildings.     Many  designations  for  human  beings,  especially  for  chil- 
dren, have  no  doubt  arisen  from  original  names  for  a  mass ;   words  like, 
"knabe"  (knappe,  knave),  "kerl,"  "knecht"  (knight),  "knirps,"  "bube," 
"kind,"    and   many   others    found   in   the   dialects.      The    names    for   a 
mass  or  a  projection   frequently  descend  to  four  groups  of  concepts, 
which  have  increasing  degrees  of  complexity,  in  such  a  manner  that  the 
speech-sound   may  reach  the  most  complex   concept  either  directly  or 
through  the  intermediary  other  groups.     They  are:    first,  the  concept  of 
a  heap;    second,  of  a  bundle;    third,  of  a  bunch,  a  cluster,  or  a  tuft; 
fourth,  of  a  group  of  things.    The  whole  series  presents  the  picture  of  a 
mass  or  projection  unfolding  and  finally  splitting  up  into  fragments.   Of 
this  origin  are  most  words  of  the  type  of  German  "Haufen,"  "Hocken," 
"Stapel" ;    EngUsh  "pile,"  "stock" ;    German  "Bund,"  "Pack,"  "Bunch," 
"Biischel,"  "Busch,"  "Garbe,"  "Schopf"  (Haarbiischel)  ;  EngHsh  "shrub," 
"brush,"  "shock,"  "hair"  ;  also  German  "Gras,"  "Halm" ;   Enghsh  "tuft," 
"bent,"  "reed";   German  "Gruppe,"  "Heer,"  "Schar,"  "Schock"  (Masz)  ; 
English  "throng,"  "school"  (number  of  fishes).   From  original  names  for 
a  depression  are  derived  numerous  names  for  vessels,  as  German  "Becken," 
"Schale,"   "Napf,"   "Fasz";     EngUsh   "bin,"   "bunker,"   "vessel"    (vat). 
From  the  concept  of  a  vessel   (container)   the  speech-sound  frequently 
passes  on  to  that  of  a  ship.     Many  of  the  older  names  for  ships  are  un- 
doubtedly of  this  origin.     Of  course,  modern  ships,  which  are  so  much 
more   than   mere  floating   containers,   are   more   likely  to   receive  their 
designations  according  to  some  special  characteristic,  hence  by  composi- 
tion ;  thus  have  arisen  names  like  "steamer,"  "cruiser,"  "liner,"  "tanker." 
As  pointed  out  and  illustrated  by  the  examples  given,  concepts  of 
things  are  likely  to  be  named  by  direct  transference,  if  the  image  of 
outlines  is  the  dominating  factor.     If  some  special  characteristic  is  em- 
phasized the  thing  in  question  is  more  conveniently  named  by  compo- 


ORIGIN    OF    SPEECH-SOUNDS HILMER  189 

sition.  This  principle  establishes  the  border-line  between  the  two  modes 
of  associating  speech-symbols  by  transference.  This  border-line  is,  of 
course,  not  sharp  and  definite ;  the  two  territories  frequently  overlap  and 
sometimes  interpenetrate  deeply. 

Complex  concepts  must  not  be  confused  with  abstract  ones.  Among 
the  latter  there  are  many  which  may  be  named  most  conveniently  and 
naturally  after  some  simple  concept  by  direct  transference:  for  instance, 
a  difficult  problem  may  be  called  in  German  a  "knoten,"  after  the  knot 
in  a  rope ;  a  word  that  has  come  about,  no  doubt,  through  associating  the 
hard  lump  (the  "knoten")  in  a  rope  with  any  hard  lump,  which  was 
known  by  the  name  of  "knoten." 

The  second  important  kind  of  concepts  which  are  named  after  the 
sound  of  a  blow  are  the  concepts  of  short,  quick  motions.    These  concepts 
bear  the  same  relative  importance  to  other  concepts  of  action  as  do  the 
three  fundamental  concepts  of  outhne  to  other  concepts  of  things  ;    and 
the  simile  of  the  system  of  water-pipes  used  above  in  reference  to  con- 
cepts of  things  applies  likewise  to  concepts  of  actions — with  due  allow- 
ance, of  course,   for  the  difference  between  things  and  actions.     The 
origin  of  the  symbols  for  motions  from  sound  imitation  is  much  more 
evident  than  is  the  origin  from  the  same  source  of  symbols  for  a  mass  or 
a  projection  or  a  depression.    On  the  other  hand,  it  is  not  possible  to  de- 
termine the  starting  points  of  the  symbols  for  concepts  of  motions  so 
exactly  as  the  starting  points  of  the  symbols  for  the  three  most  funda- 
mental concepts  of  things ;    for  every  short,  quick  motion  is  apt  to  con- 
jure up  the  impression  of  the  sound  of  a  blow,  even  if  the  motion  does 
not  produce  an  audible  sound, — in  fact,  even  if  it  does  not  hit  anything. 
It  is  therefore  in  many  cases  impossible  to  judge  whether  the  word  is 
due  to  original  association  or  to  transference.     Frequently,  no  doubt, 
both  these  causes  have  their  share  in  establishing  and  fixing  it  in  a  com- 
munity.   In  the  measure  that  the  concept  contains  more  and  more  abstract 
ideas— as  of  purpose,  utility,  etc. — along  with  the  image  of  the  moving 
thing,  the  likelihood  that  the  concept  owes  its  symbol  to  original  associa- 
tion becomes  less.     The  following  series  of  words,  taken  from  German 
dictionaries,  will  make  that  clear:    "Tapp,  zur  bezeichnung  des  schalles, 
den  etwas  auf-  oder  zusammenschlagendes  erzeugt."    "Tapp,  klappender 
schlag,  klaps."     "Tappe,  ein  schlag  mit  der  hand."     "Tappen,  komish- 
verachtlicher  ausdruck  fiir  plumpes,  ungeschicktes  zugreifen."    "Tappen 
ertappen,  erwischen,  ergreifen."  "Tappen,  sich  an  einen  ort  im  finstern 
tappen,  oder  von  einem  bUnden,  tappend  mit  den  handen  vorher  fiihlend, 
suchend  sich  an  einem  ort  finden."  "Tappen"  is  used  furthermore  in  Ger- 


I90 


FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 


man  in  an  entirely  abstract  sense,  namely  that  of  thinking  hesitatingly 
and  carefully  along  certain  lines. 

The  direction  of  the  speech-symbols  moving  by  direct  transference 
through  the  field  of  concepts  of  actions,  is  frequently  determined  not 
merely  by  the  factor  of  a  motion  inherent  in  all  concepts  of  actions, 
but  likewise  by  the  nature  of  the  thing  moving.  The  series  of  words 
just  quoted  is  an  illustration  of  this.  Of  course  this  does  not  preclude 
that  the  speech-sound  associated  with  the  concepts  of  the  motions  of  one 
thing  may  become  associated  with  the  concepts  of  motions  of  another 
thing  or  other  things.  A  further  discussion  of  the  possibilities  in  this 
respect  will  be  found  in  the  book  referred  to  before. 

Concepts  of  action  which  emphasize  other  activities  than  that  of  a 
simple  motion  are  likely  to  be  named  by  composition;  as,  "to  finger" 
after  the  noun  "finger."  There  is,  however,  no  sharp  line  between  direct 
transference  and  composition.  Concepts  which  contain  the  idea  that  a 
certain  definite  thing  or  a  characteristic  (adjective-concept)  is  to  be  made, 
must  of  course  receive  their  speech-symbols  from  the  concept  of  that 
thing  or  characteristic;  for  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  that  a  certain 
thing  or  characteristic  is  to  be  produced  if  the  image  of  that  thing  or 
characteristic,  and  with  it  its  speech-symbol,  is  not  clearly  borne  in  mind. 
Thus  the  verb  "knot,  to  make  or  tie  a  knot,"  is  formed  on  the  noun  "knot, 
a  comphcation  in  a  string" ;  and  the  verb  "blacken,  to  make  black,"  on 
the  adjective  "black,  the  darkest  color." 

The  preceding  argument  aims  to  show  that  the  speech-sounds  de- 
rived from  the  imitation  of  the  sound  of  a  blow  (action  of  one  thing 
striking  another)  must  (on  account  of  their  original  association  with 
the  three  fundamental  concepts  of  outline  and  the  fundamental  concepts 
of  motions)  become  associated,  through  direct  transference,  with  a  by 
far  larger  number  of  concepts  of  things  and  actions  than  can  be  reached 
through  this  means  by  all  other  speech-sounds  taken  together.  Seeing 
now  that  things  and  occurrences  (or  actions)  are  the  only  phenomena 
which  may  be  pointed  out  and  named  independently  of  any  previous 
associations,*  it  follows  that  the  imitations  of  the  sound  of  a  blow  must 
be  the  foundation  for  the  larger  part  of  the  entire  vocabulary  of  a  lan- 
guage. 

*A11  concepts  which  are  not  things  or  actions  presuppose  comparison  or  some 
sort  of  analysis.  After  a  language  has  developed  a  certain  vocabulary,  it  is  of 
course  possible  to  define  and  arbitrarily  name  any  concept;  but  as  a  source  for 
further  and  far-reaching  development  such  cases  have  comparatively  little  im- 
portance. 


ORIGIN    OF    SPEECH-SOUNDS HILMER  IQI 

A  word  remains  to  be  said  about  the  development  of  the  adjective. 
The  concept  of  an  adjective  depends  on  analysis.  It  is  impossible  to 
conceive  it  without  putting-  at  least  two  concepts  of  things  with  a  com- 
mon characteristic  side  by  side  for  comparison.  The  most  natural  way 
of  associating-  the  concept  of  a  characteristic  (adjective)  with  a  speech- 
sound  is  obviously  that  of  referring  to  it  by  means  of  the  name  of  a  thing 
which  has  that  characteristic  in  a  pronounced  measure.  This  is,  in  fact, 
the  origin  of  the  names  of  most  colors.  After  the  idea  and  the  form  of 
the  adjective  have  become  the  property  of  a  community,  this  process  of 
naming  adjectives  is  simple  enough ;  yet  it  must  have  taken  ages  to  de- 
velop it,  for  it  marks  the  first  step  in  analysis — in  other  words,  the  first 
stage  in  the  development  of  the  thinking  man. 

Most  names  for  concrete  adjectives  (color,  shape,  size,  density,  etc.) 
must  have  been  derived  from  names  of  things,  direct  transference  of 
speech-sounds  between  concepts  of  concrete  adjectives  being  likely  only 
within  narrow  limits.  There  is,  of  course,  nothing  to  prevent  trans- 
ferring speech-sounds  by  this  means  from  the  concept  of  a  concrete 
adjective  to  that  of  an  abstract  one.  That  many  abstract  adjectives  may 
be  named  by  composition,  after  a  verb,  is  likewise  self-evident. 

The  importance  of  the  imitations  of  the  sound  of  a  blow  in  language 
development  is  not  apparent  in  the  language  of  a  highly  developed  com- 
munity, for  the  number  of  new  imitations  of  that  type  which  enter  within 
a  short  period — say  the  lifetime  of  a  human  being — is  small  as  compared 
with  the  total  vocabulary;  and  the  older  word-roots  of  the  same  origin 
have  as  a  rule  changed  so  much  either  phonetically  or  semasiologically, 
or  in  both  these  respects,  that  in  many  cases  all  traces  of  their  source  are 
obliterated.  Nevertheless,  by  comparing  the  sound  imitations  of  blows 
and  the  words  evidently  derived  from  them  in  a  number  of  related  lan- 
guages, especially  in  related  dialects,  it  is  possible  to  obtain  an  ideal 
picture  of  the  main  lines  of  development  from  this  source.  Abundant 
material  of  this  sort  will  be  found  arranged  in  my  book  on  "Schallnach- 
ahmung,  Wortschopfung  und  Bedeutungswandel."  On  the  strength  of 
this  material  I  do  not  hesitate  to  assert  that  at  least  three-fourths  of  the 
vocabulary  of  the  Germanic  languages  (most  likely  it  is  even  a  larger 
part)  goes  ultimately  back  to  imitations  of  sounds  of  blows. 

The  stream  of  words  that  flows  from  this  mighty  source  as  compared 
with  the  total  vocabulary  of  a  language  might  be  likened  to  a  huge  river 
constituting  the  main  supply  of  a  large  body  of  water, — for  instance,  as 
the  Volga  feeds  the  Caspian  Sea.  The  water  of  the  Caspian  Sea  is 
salt  and  different  from  that  of  the  Volga,  yet  it  is  principally  the  Volga 


192 


FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 


that  maintains  the  Caspian  Sea  and  has  maintained  it  for  ages.  In  a 
similar  manner  is  the  ocean  of  words  in  a  language  different  from  its 
main  supply,  namely  from  the  mighty  stream  that  goes  back  to  the  imi- 
tations of  sounds  of  blows.  Furthermore,  as  the  current  of  the  river 
may  be  followed  up  for  long  distances  even  in  the  salt  water  before  it 
finally  disappears,  so  may  the  current  from  which  the  ocean  of  words 
is  principally  fed,  be  pursued  deep  into  the  language  before  all  traces 
of  it  have  disappeared. 


NOTES  ON  "FLOIRE  ET  BLANCHEFLOR" 

Oliver  Martin  Johnston 

OF  THE  two  old  French  poems  on  Floire  and  Blancheflor,  one  is 
known  as  the  aristocratic  version  and  the  other  as  the  popular 
version/  The  latter,  which  is  very  much  inferior  to  the  former, 
has  been  preserved  in  only  one  manuscript,  and  that  is  of  the  fourteenth 
century.  The  Bibliotheque  Nationale  at  Paris  contains  three  manuscripts 
of  the  aristocratic  version,  which  may  be  designated  as  A,  B,  C. 
Du  Meril  claims  to  have  made  use  of  all  three  of  these  manuscripts 
in  the  construction  of  his  text,  but,  as  will  be  seen  in  the  following  notes, 
the  different  manuscript  readings  did  not  always  receive  the  consideration 
that  they  deserve. 

I,  "Mais  qui  H  porroit  si  tolir 

Ou'ele  n'en  esteust  morir,        _  3^^ 

Cou  m'est  a  vis  plus  bel  seroit." 
Li  rois  respont  tout  entreset: 
"Dame,"  dist  il,  "et  jou  I'otroi ; 
Consilhez  en  et  vous  et  moi."  ^ 

In  the  passage  just  quoted  Du  Meril  follows  Ms.  B.  in  making  seroil 
rime  with  entreset  (=  entrcsait^).    Ms.  A.  reads  as  follows: 

Cou  m'est  avis  plus  bel  seroit. 
Li  rois  la  dame  respondoit. 

The  difficulty  in  the  reading  found  in  B  lies  in  the  fact  that  according 
to  the  statement  of  grammarians  •»  oi  was  not  pronounced  ivz  until  con- 

»^r  a  discussion  of  the  characteristics  of  these  two  versions,  compare  Du 
Meril,  Floire  et  Blanceflor,  Paris,  1856.    pp..  xix-xxi. 

'  Unless  otherwise  stated,  references  will  be  to  the  edition  of  Du  Meril. 
*  Other  examples  of  oi  riming  with  ai  in  B  are : 

II  li  otroie  a  moult  grant  paine; 
Volentiers  i  trovast  essoine. 

(vv.  355-6) 
Or  m'escoutez;    je  vous  dirai 
Le  meillor  conseill  que  g'  i  voi. 
(vv.    1892-3). 
*See  Grammaire  historique  de  la  langue  franiovse,  Leipzig  and   Paris,   1899, 
par.  158;   Meyer-Liibke,  Grammaire  des  Langues  Romanes,  I,  pp.  95-97- 


1^4  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

siderably  after  the  date  of  the  composition  of  Floire  et  Blancheflor, 
which  was  probably  written  between  1160  and  1170.  The  poem  could 
not  have  been  written  later  than  1170  as  that  is  the  date  of  the  earliest 
foreign  imitation  of  the  French  version.  With  reference  to  the  earliest 
examples  of  oi  pronounced  we,  Nyrop  says  :^  "Vers  la  fin  du  XIII  *  siecle, 
le  group  oi,  quelle  qu'en  soit  I'origine,  s'altere  et  finit  par  passer  a  une 
nouvelle  articulation  [we],^  tout  en  restant  graphiquement  intact."  How- 
ever, the  language  of  our  poem  seems  to  indicate  that  the  author  was  an 
Anglo-Norman.^  If  this  be  true,  seroit  and  entreset  were  doubtless  writ- 
ten sereit  and  entresait  (or  entreseit")  in  the  original.  The  rime  ai  :  ei 
would  then  offer  no  difficulty,  as  examples  of  it  are  found  in  Anglo- 
Norman  texts  of  the  twelfth  century.''  With  reference  to  the  examples 
of  ai  :  ei  found  in  Chardry,"  Mussafia  says:  "  "Wenn  ai  :  ei  nur  6  mal 
gegen  80  von  ai  :  ai  erscheint,  so  hangt  Diess  davon  ab,  dass  fast  alle 
Falle  von  ai  :  ai  lat,  habeo  (im  Praesens  und  Futurum)  betreffen,  so 
dass  alle  diese  Stellen  eigentlich  nur  eine  einzige  ausmachen ;  sieht  man 
von  derselben  ab,  so  ist  die  Anzahl  der  Falle  von  ai  :  ai  kaum  grosser 
als  die  von  ai  :  ei."  Examples  of  ai  (written  ei)  riming  with  ei  in  the 
works  of  Simund  de  Freine  are: 

De  pussance  plus  dirrei: 
Bunte  nule  n'ad  en  sei. 
(Le  Roman  de  Philosophie,  819-20.) 
Ore  entendez  plus  a  mei}^ 
Un  essample  vus  mettrei 
Par  ki  savrez  sanz  dutance 
Ke  malveis  horn  n'ad  pussance.^* 
(R.  Ph.  1 481 -4.) 


^Op.  cit..  par.  158. 

*For  the  phonetic  symbol  used  by  Nyrop  I  have  substituted  that  of  the  Asso- 
ciation Phonetique.  See  p.  7- 

*  See  The  Anglo-Norman  Dialect,  by  L.  E.  Menger,  New  York,  1904,  p.  51 ; 
"In  this  connection  Uhlemann  notes  that  in  Anglo-Norman  ei  for  etymological  ai 
is  frequent." 

•  See  Les  Oeuvres  dc  Simund  de  Freine,  by  John  E.  Matzke,  Paris,  1909,  PP- 

xxiii-iv. 

"Regarding  the  date  of  Chardry,  Menger  (op.  cit.,  p.  22)  says:  "Since  the 
London  MS.  was  written  before  1216,  the  original  must  have  been  composed  in 
the  course  of  the  twelfth  century." 

^'  See  Zeitschrift  fiir  rom.  Philologie  III,  593- 

'^For  other  instances  of  ai  riming  with  ei  in  the  works  of  Simund  de  Freine, 
compare  Matzke,  op.  cit.,  pp.  xxiii-iv. 

"With  reference  to  the  date  of  the  writings  of  Simund  de  Freine,  Matzke 
(op.  cit.,  p.  xi)  says:  "Les  deux  poemes  appartiennent,  selon  nous,  a  la  fin  du  XIP 
siecle." 


NOTES    ON     "p'LOIRE    ET     JU.ANCH  EFT-OR"  —  JOHNSTON  I95 

2.  Floire,  the  son  of  kin^  I'""elis  of  Sj)ain,  and  Blancheflor,  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  Christian  slave,  grow  up  together  and  love  each  other  tenderly. 
The  king  seeing  that  his  son  loves  Blancheflor  resolves  to  have  her  slain 
as  soon  as  possible.  The  (|ueen  having  opposed  this  plan,  however,  they 
decide  to  send  Floire  to  Montoire,  promising  him  that  Blancheflor  will 
join  him  soon.  Floire  goes  away  sad  and  at  the  end  of  a  week  begins  to 
grieve  and  refuses  to  eat.  As  soon  as  the  king  learns  the  result  of  the  sep- 
aration of  the  two  lovers  he  proposes  again  to  have  the  young  girl  slain. 
The  queen  still  refuses  to  give  her  consent  and  suggests  that  it  would  be 
better  to  sell  her  to  some  merchants  going  to  Babylon.  With  reference 
to  the  interview  between  the  king  and  the  queen  and  the  king's  decision 
to  sell  Blancheflor  to  the  merchants,  our  poet  says : 

La  roine  li  respond! : 

"Sire,"  fait  el,  "por  Diu  merchi! 

A  cest  port  a  moult  marceans  405 

De  Babiloine,  bien  manans. 

Au  port  la  fai  mener  et  vendre : 

Grant  avoir  pues  illoeques  prendre. 

Cil  I'en-menront ;    car  moult  est  bele : 

Ja  n'orrez  mais  de  li  novele.  410 

Si  en  serons  delivre  bien 

Sans  estre  homecide  de  rien." 

Li  rois  a  grant  paine  I'otroie : 
Par  um  bori^ois  au  port  I'envoie, 
Qui  de  marcie  estoit  moult  sages  415 

Et  sot  parler  de  mains  laiigages. 
Ne  la  fist  pas  par  convoitise 
Vendre  li  rois  en  nule  guise : 
Mius  amast  qu'ele  fust  finee 

Que  de  rouge  or  une  navee  420 

Le  pechie  crient,  por  cou  le  lait. 
Li  marceans  au  port  s'en-vait, 
Et  a  eus  offre  la  pucele, 
Que  I'acatent :    car  moult  ert  bele. 
Cil  I'acaterent  maintenant  425 

(Car  moult  est  bele  par  sanblant ) 
Trente  mars  d'or  et  vint  d'argent,  etc. 

Regarding  the  lines  beginning  with  v.  422,  Du  Meril  says :  "Les 
vers  suivants  sont  probablement  alteres ;  mais  commc  ils  manquent  dans 
B,  nous  n'avons  aucun  moyen  d'ameliorer  avec  certitude  le  texte  du 
ms.  A." 

A  form  that  might  give  rise  to  difficulty  in  the  interpretation  of  the 
passage  quoted  above  is  the  word  marceans  in  v.  422.     In  v.  405  the 


196  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

author  uses  marceans  in  speaking  of  the  merchants  to  whom  Blancheflor 
was  sold.  It  seems  fairly  certain,  however,  that  marceans  in  v.  422  refers 
to  borgois  (v.  414).  If  marceans  (v.  422)  and  borgois  refer  to  the  same 
person,  the  meaning  is  perfectly  clear. 

Du  Meril  is  wrong  in  using  que  in  v.  424.  Both  A  and  C,  the  only 
manuscripts  containing  this  portion  of  the  text,  show  qui.  Que  I'acatent 
is  meaningless.  On  the  other  hand,  if  qtii  is  substituted  for  que,  the  line 
offers  no  difficulty  whatever,  the  antecedent  of  the  relative  being  eus, 
which  refers  to  the  merchants  who  bought  Blancheflor.  There  does  not 
seem  to  be  any  reason  therefore  for  believing  that  the  text  of  the  passage 
under  discussion  is  corrupt,  as  Du  Meril  supposed. 

3.  Cele  piere  qui  sus  gisoit, 

De  tres-fin  marbre  faite  estoit, 

Inde,  jaune,  noir  et  vermeil : 

Moult  reluisoit  contre  soleil. 

Si  fut  entaillie  environ  555 

De  la  trifoire  Salemon. 

Regarding  the  phrase  trifoire  Salemon,  Otto  Sohring  says  :^*  Dies 
scheint  mir  eine  Vermischung  zweier  haufiger  Wendungen :  oevre 
trifoire  [an  einem  Turm  in  Part  822,  einem  Horn  aus  Elfenbein  Perc. 
28487,  cf.  auch  trifoire  als  prad.  Adj.:  devers  la  ville  erent  trifoire  |  li 
mur  .  .  .  En.  445;  weitere  Belege  zu  trifoire  subst.  und  adj.  s. 
bei  Godefroy  VIII,  74.  75] — und  oevre  Salemon  [Li  pumiaus  et  li  aigle 
en  son  |  Furent  de  I'oevre  Salemon  Blanc.  4095  ;  li  arcon  |  furent  de 
I'uevre  Salemon  En.  4075.  li  pecol  e  li  limun  furent  a  I'uevre  Salemun 
Guig.  170     .     .     .     cf.  Du  Cange  VI,  42]. 

Beide  Wendungen  scheinen  ungefahr  dasselbe  zu  bedeuten,  werden 
auch  haufig  zusammengestellt  (En.  4075  fif. ;    Guig.  170  fif.). 

The  passage  under  consideration  reads  as  follows  in  B : 

Cele  pierre  qui  sus  gisoit, 
Feite  de  moult  fin  marbre  estoit, 
Inde,  jaune,  noir  et  vermeill : 
Moult  reluisoit  contre  soleill. 
Si  fu  entailliee  environ 
De  la  bonne  euvre  Salemon. 

The  reading  of  B  {la  bonne  euvre  Salemon)  doubtless  represents 
the  language  of  the  author.     The  phrase  oevre  Salemon  is  frequently 


"  See  Romanische  Forschungen,  XII,  p.  529. 


NOTES    ON    FLOIRE    ET    BLANCHEFLOR  —  JOHNSTON  197 

used  in  old  French."^  With  reference  to  trifoire  Salemon,  on  the  other 
hand,  Alfred  Dressier  says :'"  "Was  das  heissen  soil,  ist  mir  nicht  recht 
klar.  'trifore'  wird  im  Eneas  stetes  und  sonst  meist  als  Adjektiv  verd- 
wendet  (vgl.  Godefroy)." 

4.  Chiez  un  borgois  sont  herbergie, 

Qui  riches  horn  ert  au  marcie,  1200 

Et  notoniers,  et  marceans. 
(A  and  C) 

Chies  un  bourgois  sont  herbergie, 
Qui  riches  ert  et  alose, 
Notonier  iert  et  marcheanz. 
(B) 

In  a  note  on  ou  marcie,  Du  Meril  says :  "Cette  fin  de  vers  est  sans 
doute  corrompue ;  mais  elle  nous  semble  encore  preferable  a  celle  qui  se 
trouve  dans  B ;  alose  ne  ferait  pas  une  rime  sufifisante."  It  will  be 
observed  that  the  editor  of  our  poem  regarded  ou  marcie  as  an  unsatis- 
factory reading  (cette  fin  de  vers  est  sans  doute  corrompue),  but  pre- 
ferred it  to  alose,  because  he  did  not  consider  herbergie-alosc  a  satis- 
factory rime. 

The  confusion  of  ie  and  ^  is  a  well  known  characteristic  of  the 
Anglo-Norman  dialect.  In  his  edition  of  Le  Bestiaire  de  Philippe  de 
Thaiin  (Introduction,  p.  li),  Emmanuel  Walberg  says:  "Comme  Ton 
sait,  la  confusion  de  ie  avec  e,  a  une  epoque  ou  les  dialectes  du  continent 
distinguaient  encore  ces  deux  sons,  est  un  trait  caracteristique  de  I'anglo- 
normand."  '"  In  view  of  the  fact  that  the  verse  of  Floire  et  Blancheflor 
shows  another  Anglo-Norman  characteristic,  namely,  the  occurrence  of 
four  and  sometimes  six  lines  in  succession  with  the  same  rime,  is  it  not 
more  probable  that  dose  was  in  the  original  and  that  it  was  changed 

"  Enmi  la  nef  trova  un  lit, 
Dunt  li  pecol  e  li  limiin 
Furent  a  I'ucvrc  Selemun 
Taillie  a  or,  tut  a  trifoire, 
De  cipres  e  de  blanc  ivoire. 
(Marie,  Lais,  Guigemar,  170,  Warnke.) 
Trestot  de  I'ucvre  Salemon  mout  sotilment  ovree. 
(De  Venus  In  decsse  d'amor,  st.  214,  Foerster.) 

li  arcon 
Furent  de  I'uczre  Sale vt on. 
(En.  4075.) 
"See    Per    Einfluss    dcs    altfranzosischcn    Eneas-Romanes    auf    die    altfran- 
sosische  Litteratur,  Borna-Leipzig,  1907,  p.   I39- 

"Compare  also  John   E.  Matzke,  Les  Oeuvres   de  Simund  de  Freine,   Paris, 
1909,  p.  xix. 


ip8  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

to  marcic  by  a  scribe  who  was  not  familiar  with  the  rime  herhergie-alose? 
Our  text  contains  eighteen  passages  where  four  consecutive  lines  rime 
together  and  one  where  six  lines  have  the  same  rime. 

L'amirals  grant  pris  en  aroit, 
Cou  m'est  a  vis,  et  mius  seroit. 
Et  quant  il  I'engien  en  saroit; 
Contregarder  mius  s'en  porroit/* 
(vv.  2735-38.) 

"Grant  doel  en  fist;    caiens  jou  Vvi." 
Quant  Floire  lot,  si  s'esbahi, 
Qu'isnelement  li  respondi, 
Et  dist:     "Non  frere,  mais  ami." 
De  cou  qu'ot  dit  se  repenti: 
"Mais  freres,  dame;    jou  mesdi."  ^^ 
(vv.  1523-28.) 

With  reference  to  groups  of  four  and  six  lines  riming  together, 
Paul  Meyer  says :  ^^  "Quelques  poetes,  originaires  generalement  de  Nor- 
mandie  ou  d'Angleterre,  admettent  parfois  quatre  vers  ou  plus  sur  les 

memes  rimes."  ^^ 

5.  Andoi  li  sont  cheu  as  pies ; 

A  grant  joie  li  ont  baisies. 
(vv.  2521-2.) 

In  Du  Meril's  edition  v.  2522  reads: 

A  grant  joie  les  ont  baisies. 

Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  this  line  is  the  same  in  all  three  of 

"For  other  groups  of  four  consecutive  lines  riming  together,  compare  372-5", 
721-4;  733-6;  1087-90;  1093-6;  1 1 13-16;  1 185-8;  1283-6;  1391-4;  1531-4;  1673-6; 
1869-72;  1887-90;  1903-6;  1953-6;  2561-4;  2803-6.  For  another  Anglo-Norman 
characteristic  of  our  poem,  compare  pp.   193-4- 

"  Compare  also  503-8 ;    917-22. 

^''See  L'Escoufle,  Roman  d' Adventure   (Societe  des  Anciens  textes),  p.  Hi. 

"  Compare  also  Fragments  d'line  vie  de  Saint  Thomas  de  Cantorbery,  pub. 
par  Paul  Meyer,  pp.  xxxv-xxxvi :  Nos  fragments  presentent  plusieurs  exemples 
d'une  autre  irregularite  qui  du  reste  n'est  pas  sans  exemple  dans  I'ancienne  poesie 
frangaise  et  qui  est  devenue  assez  frequente  dans  la  poesie  anglo-normande :  il 
donne  mainte  fois  la  meme  rime  a  quatre  vers  consecutifs  et  meme  a  six;  voy.  I, 
37-4,  41-4;  III,  13-8,  41-4,  95-8,  103-6;  IV,  1-4.  In  a  note  on  the  word  franqaise 
in  the  quotation  just  given  the  editor  says :  "II  serait  peut  etre  plus  exact  de  dire 
'poesie  normande',  car  c'est  surtout  chez  Wace  que  cette  particularity  s'observe." 


NOTES    ON     "fLOIRE    ET    BLANCHEFLOR"  —  JOHNSTON  199 

the  manuscripts,  Du  Meril  substituted  the  accusative  les  for  the  dative  li. 
The  form  used  in  his  edition  shows  that  he  did  not  understand  the  con- 
struction in  question.  In  such  cases  usage  requires  two  pronouns,  a 
dative  and  an  accusative  form.  While  the  latter  is  usually  omitted  in 
orthography,  it  is  always  understood  and  regarded  as  the  object  of  the 
verb.  For  example,  in  A  grant  joie  li  out  baisics,  the  past  participle 
baisies  agrees  with  the  accusative  pronoun  Ics,  which  is  understood.  If 
expressed  in  full,  this  line  would  therefore  read :  A  grant  joie  les  li  ont 
baisies.  The  pronoun  les  is  omitted  here,  however,  because,  as  a  rule, 
an  accusative  pronoun  of  the  third  person  was  not  expressed  before  a 
dative  pronoun  of  the  same  person  in  Old  French.  In  this  connection 
Paris  and  Langlois  say  :^-  "Devant  le  pronom  personnel  de  la  3*  per- 
sonne  au  datif,  jamais  le  pronom  de  la  meme  personne  a  I'accusatif 
n'est  exprime : 

Li  rois  ses  pere   (la)   li  vout  le  jor  doner  {Cour.  48). 
Dessoz  la  bocle  (le)   li  fist  fraindre  et  percier  (Raoul   134). 
Quant  je  (les)   li  voi  rompre   (I vain  60). 
II  n'ot  pas  loisir  de  luy  reprendre   {Frois.  245). 

Conf.  Cour.  113,  132,  155;  Ivain  255,  256;  Greb.  62,  etc."  While 
the  quotation  just  given  states  the  general  rule  for  the  use  of  two  pro- 
nouns of  the  third  person  in  the  construction  under  consideration,  the 
statement  should  be  slightly  modified,  as  will  be  seen  from  the  following 
examples  where  both  the  accusative  and  the  dative  are  used : 

Receut  I'almosne  quant  Deus  la  li  tramist. 
(La  vie  de  Saint  Alexis,  ed.  by  Paris  and  Pannier,  20). 
Ne  s'en  corocet  giens  cil  saintismes  horn, 
Ainz  preiet  Deu  cjued  il  le  lor  pardonist 
Par  sa  mercit,  quer  ne  sevent  que  font. 

(Ibid.,  54.) 

The  reason  for  the  omission  of  the  accusative  in  the  construction 
under  discussion  lies  in  the  fact  that  combinations  like  le  li,  la  li,  les  li, 
le  lor,  etc.  were  objectionable  because  of  the  occurrence  of  /  at  the  begin- 
ning of  two  consecutive  words. ^•' 


"See  Chrcstomathie  du  Moycn  Age,  extraits  publics  par  G.  Paris  ct  E.  Lang- 
lois, Paris,  1897,  p.  Ixvi,  191. 

"Compare  the  indefinite  on,  which  often  takes  the  article  after  et,  ou.  ou,  que, 
si,  but  requires  that  the  article  be  omitted,  if  the  next  word  begins  with  /.  For 
instance,  one  says  si  Von  voit,  but  si  on  le  voit. 


FRENCH  CULTURE  AND  EARLY  MIDDLE  ENGLISH 
FORMS  OF  ADDRESS 

Arthur  G.  Kennedy 

IN  NO  respect,  perhaps,  are  the  effects  of  the  coming  of  French  culture 
into  medieval  England  more  marked  than  in  the  titles  used  in  direct 
address.  In  the  older  literature  of  the  transitional  period  which 
extended  from  the  time  of  the  coming  of  the  Normans  to  about  the  end 
o£  the  thirteenth  century  there  is  still  prevalent  that  Anglo-Saxon  direct- 
ness and  frankness  of  speech  which  leaves  no  such  impression  of  ambi- 
guity as  was  possible  later  when  one  could  call  his  worst  enemy  belamy. 
In  the  religious,  and  especially  in  the  homiletic  Uterature,  the  speaker 
calls  his  hearer  simply  mon,  or  for  the  plural,  men}  This  use  of  the 
vocative  when  the  speaker  is  attempting  to  impress  some  moral  truth  is 
occasionally  to  be  found  in  Hterature  written  later  in  the  thirteenth 
century.2  In  the  few  other  instances  where  it  occurs  in  the  later  litera- 
ture of  the  period  under  consideration  it  seems  to  imply  a  sUghtly  critical 
or  perhaps  unfavorable  attitude  on  the  part  of  the  speaker,  thus  corre- 
sponding to  our  modern  use  of  it  in  showing  amazed  disapproval.  Pilate, 
in  Cursor  Mundi,  uses  it  in  addressing  the  accused  Jesus  and  Jesus 
speaks  to  sinful  man.^ 

The  unqualified  use  of  the  proper  name  is  also  common,  particularly 
in  Lajamon's  Brut,  in  the  alHterative  lives  of  saints,  in  Genesis  and 
Exodus,  etc.,  even  a  king  being  frequently  addressed  with  no  title  what- 
ever to  soften  the  seeming  bluntness  in  the  use  of  the  name.^  Here, 
again,  the  later  use  of  the  name  alone  seems,  in  addresses  to  men  of 
superior  rank,  such  as  Pilate  or  Richard  of  Cornwall,  to  show  a  some- 
what contemptuous  feehng  on  the  part  of  the  speakers.^  To  a  certain 
extent,  of  course,  this  usage  must  be  ascribed  to  the  Biblical  origin  of 

^Cf.  Lambeth  Paternoster  (E.  E.  T.  S.  29)  59:99,  Ancren  Riwie  (ed.  Morton) 
276:13,  Old  English  Miscellany  (E.  E.  T.  S.49)  20:5,  Prov.  of  Hending  (Anglia 
4:180)   version  C,  14:10,  Surtees  Psalter  (ed.  Stevenson)   36:10,  etc. 

'Cf.  Kildare  Poems  (ed.  Heuser  in  Bonner  Beitrage  XVII)  1:80,  3:29, 
10 :  48,  etc. 

'Cursor  Mundi  (E.  E.  T.  S.  57,  59,  etc.)   16241,  I7i44- 

*Cf.  Laj.  (ed.  Madden)   10991,  11424,  18150. 

'Cursor  M.  16033,  Poems  of  Harl.  2253  (ed.  Boddeker)   Pol.  Lieder  1:6,  etc. 


MIDDLE    ENGLISH    FORMS   OF   ADDRESS — KENNEDY  20I 

the  literature  in  which  it  occurs.  This  is  especially  true  of  such  late 
thirteenth-century  pieces  as  Cursor  Mundi,  Song  of  Joseph  and  some  of 
the  legends.  But  whether  it  was  influenced  much  or  little  by  Biblical 
usage,  it  is  common  in  the  earlier  Middle  English  literature,  as  is  also 
the  use  in  direct  address  of  the  unqualified  noun  which  names  the  official 
rank  or  social  standing  of  the  person  addressed,  as,  for  example,  king, 
emperour,  reue,  keiser,  cwen  cnihtes,  etc.^  It  is  true  that  a  certain 
amount  of  deference  was  shown  by  the  use  of  these  titles,  and  yet  they 
were  not  so  much  complimentary  as  obligatory,  and  the  deference  was 
compelled  by  the  rank  of  the  one  addressed.  If  a  speaker  desired  to 
show  respect  or  aflfection,  or  contempt  or  dislike,  for  anyone,  he  quali- 
fied his  vocatives,  both  proper  and  common  nouns,  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  leave  no  doubt  as  to  his  feeling.  Hence  we  find  in  the  earlier  litera- 
ture of  this  period  such  clear-cut  vocatives  as  men  pe  leoueste,  gode  men, 
leoue  bre^ren,  leofemen,  Juliane  pe  edie,  luuewur6e  wummon,  or,  pu 
scheomelese  schucke,  unseli  men,  fule  ping,  etc.  These  are  especially 
common  in  the  homiletic  and  legendary  literature  of  the  period.'^ 

Of  course  louerd  and  drihten  must  be  named  in  this  connection 
although  they  introduce  complications  too  important  for  adequate  treat- 
ment in  this  brief  discussion.  They  are  both  used  as  titles  of  respect  in 
addressing  Christ.  Moreover  the  two  good  old  Anglo-Saxon  words  are 
waging  a  war  of  extermination,  one  upon  the  other,  during  the  whole  of 
the  two  centuries  preceding  1300  A.  D.  In  the  Homihes  of  Bodley  343, 
of  the  early  twelfth  century,  Christ  is  usually  addressed  by  his  followers 
as  Drihten,  rarely  as  Laford.^  In  the  Lambeth  Homilies  Drihten  is  used 
only  once  or  twice,  and  Louerd  usually.*  In  Vices  and  Virtues  (ca. 
I2CXD),  while  the  older  form  hlouerd  occurs  even  more  often  than  the 
form  without  the  initial  h,  yet  it  has  apparently  entirely  driven  out  drihten 
in  direct  address.  It  is  true  that  drihten  (drightin,  etc.)  occurs  occa- 
sionally in  later  literature  of  the  thirteenth  century,  and  even  down  to 
the  fifteenth ;  yet  it  is  no  longer  common.  On  the  other  hand  lord  is 
used  much  more  frequently  as  a  title  of  respect.     It  is,  of  course,  used  in 


•Cf.  Life  of  Katherine  (E.  E.  T.  S.  80)  207,  1572,  Life  of  Juliana  (E.  E.  T.  S.  51) 
64:14,  Laj.  15893,  21095,  Gen.  &  Ex.  (E.  E.  T.  S.  7)  2133,  Northern  Legends  (ed. 
Horstmann  in  Altengl.  Leg.  1882)    i  :  434,  etc. 

'  Cf.  Homilies  of  Bodl.  343  (E.  E.  T.  S.  137)  i :  434,  Poema  Morale  (ed.  Morris 
and  Skeat,  Specimens  of  Early  Engl.  1)  389,  Lambeth  Homilies  ( E.  E.  T.  S.  29-34) 
5:30,  9:  10,  Ormulum  (ed.  Flolt)  8652,  Jul.  54:6,  Marharete  (E.  E.  T.  S.13)  42b:  16, 
Gen.  &  Ex.  2315.  etc. 

*  Hom.  of  Bodl.  343  26 :  13,  62 :  23,  72 :  24,  etc. 

•  Lamb.  Hom.  7 :  16,  43  :  18,  etc. 


^0  1^^ 


202  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

all  later  literature  as  an  appellation  of  Jesus  or  God.^°  It  is  used  regu- 
larly in  addressing  kings. ^^  Bishops  and  saints  are  usually  addressed  as 
lord,  especially  in  the  later  legends/^  Persons  of  superior  rank  are  so 
addressed,  and  sometimes  a  man  will  use  this  vocative  in  addressing 
another  whom  he  has  formerly  regarded  as  his  peer,  just  because  he 
feels  some  special  need  of  humiliating  himself,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
Jew  who  had  sinned  and  had  been  detected  by  a  Christian.^ ^  In  the  later 
legends  the  wife  of  the  prince  calls  her  husband  lord  and  in  a  few 
instances  the  more  modern  mi  lord}*  It  is  not  uncommon  for  the  poet, 
in  moments  of  deep  emotion,  to  use  lord  as  an  interjection,  often  quite 
devoid  of  all  vocative  force. ^^ 

The  native  word  lauedi  (leiiedi,  lady,  etc.)  has  besides  its  general 
application  to  a  woman  of  superior  rank  also  a  special  use  as  the  form 
appropriate  in  addressing  the  Holy  Virgin.  Perhaps  the  latter  use 
reacts  upon  the  more  general  one,  helping  to  keep  for  the  word  the  idea 
of  respect  and  chivalric  deference  which  sets  it  quite  apart  from  the 
newer  French  forms  dame  and  madame.  In  the  earlier  literature  of  the 
transition  period  lady  is  used  in  addressing  the  house-wife.^®  The  hus- 
band of  higher  rank  uses  it  also  in  addressing  his  wife.'^  But  as  early 
as  the  thirteenth  century,  in  literature  of  Southern  England  especially, 
dame  begins  to  take  its  place  as  the  word  appropriate  to  a  wife  or  house- 
wife. The  emperor  addresses  his  queen  as  dame,  the  noble  suitor  calls 
his  beloved  dame,  and  the  child  uses  it  in  addressing  his  mother.^* 
Lajamon  does  not  use  the  word,  but  soon  after  his  time  it  appears  to 
have  become  quite  settled  in  English  usage. 

After  the  coming  of  dame  the  native  lady  is  restricted  much  more 
in  use.  The  Holy  Virgin  is  always  addressed  as  lady;  nowhere  in  Eng- 
lish literature  before  about  1300  A.  D.  have  I  been  able  to  find  dame  or 
madame  applied  to  her.  This  restriction  in  the  use  of  lady  is  seen  most 
clearly,  perhaps,   in   the   Northern   and   Southern   collections   of   saints' 


'"Cf.  Harrowing  of  Hell  (E.  E.  T.  S.  C)  147,  235,  Surtees  Psalter  12:4,  25:2, 
etc.,  Southern  Legends  (E.  E.  T.  S.  87)  25:284,  etc. 

"  Cf.  Barlaam  and  Josaphat  (ed.  Horstmann,  Altengl.  Leg.  1875)  185,  Cursor 
Mundi  4716,  Robt.  of  Gloucester  (ed.  Wright)  2736,  etc. 

"Cf.  North.  Leg.   1:322,  South.  Leg.  27:1628,  37:100,  etc. 

"South.  Leg.  10:535,  Havelok  (ed.  Skeat)  483,  617,  Cursor  Mundi  5397,  etc. 

"Cf.  North.  Leg.   17:328,  25:  145,  South.  Leg.  66:502,  etc. 

"'Cf.  Body  and  Soul  (ed.  Stengel)  551,  Cursor  Mundi  9385,  etc. 

"Cf.  Ormulum  8659,  King  Horn  (E.  E.  T.  S.  14)  353,  etc. 

"Cf.  Laj.  3327. 

"Cf.  Kath.  2080,  Ancren  Riwle  230:25,  390:7,  Floris  and  Blauncheflur  (E.  E. 
T.  S.  14)   121,  258,  Dame  Siriz  (ed.  Zupitza,  Uebungsbuch)  37,  61,  221,  etc. 


MIDDLE   ENGLISH    FOKMS   OF   ADDRESS —  KENNEDY  2O3 

lives  of  the  late  thirteenth  century.'"  The  same  feeling  of  reverence, 
apparently,  induces  the  poet  to  use  lady  when  a  woman  saint  is 
addressed.-"  And  it  is  only  a  step  farther  to  that  use  of  the  word  in 
lyrical  poems  of  the  late  thirteenth  century  where  the  lover  addresses 
his  beloved  as  ladyr^  Indeed  the  poems  to  the  Holy  Virgin  exhibit  so 
many  characteristics  of  the  worldly  love  poems  that  one  would  naturally 
expect  to  find  the  same  form  of  address  used  in  both  types.  And  it  is 
natural,  therefore,  that  the  form  lady  should  come  to  show  special  resi)ect 
when  used  in  addressing-  a  queen  or  princess.-  In  the  Northern  Legends 
it  is  noticeable,  for  instance,  that  the  Jews  address  the  queen  as  lady, 
but  Katherine,  who  has  no  such  spirit  of  subservience,  uses  dame.^^  As 
a  matter  of  course  the  poet  addresses  his  fair  hearers  or  readers  as 
ladies.'*  Gradually,  in  the  literature  of  the  thirteenth  century  one  begins 
to  see  the  development  of  that  narrower,  more  chivalric  conception  which 
is  still  felt  with  regard  to  the  w^ord  lady  when  it  is  employed  in  its  best 
sense.  The  lady  is  no  longer  merely  the  woman  of  the  house,  the 
hl(pfdige,  but  she  is  the  Holy  Virgin,  or  she  partakes  of  the  attributes  of 
the  Virgin,  or  else  she  is  to  be  reverenced  because  of  her  rank  or  her 
many  admirable  qualities  as  they  appear  to  a  lover  or  admirer. 

So  it  may  be  said  that  one  of  the  first  French  words  of  address  to 
enter  the  English  came  not  as  a  luxury  but  as  a  necessity  to  perform  part 
of  the  function  of  the  native  hlccfdige  which  was  now  restricted  and  at  the 
same  time  exalted  by  the  influence  of  the  new  foreign  culture. 

One  of  the  next  words,  however,  to  appear  in  early  Middle  English, 
tnadame,  occasionally  ma  dame,  is  more  of  a  luxury,  an  embellishment, 
in  speech,  and  has  in  itself  the  idea  of  courtesy,  of  deference,  even  in 
the  earliest  occurrences  noted.  In  Robert  of  Gloucester's  Chronicle 
where  queens  are  addressed  as  ma  dame  and  in  the  Gottingen  MS.  of 
Cursor  Mundi  which  along  with  later  MSS.  substitutes  madame  for 
lauedi  of  the  Cotton  MS.  in  Joseph's  speech  to  Potiphar's  wife,  the  word 
is  clearly  a  complimentary  title. ^^ 

In  view  of  this  fact  and  of  the  fact,  previously  noted,  that  dame 
came  into  the  language  as  a  form  of  address  used  mainly  in  intercourse 
where  there  was  seemingly  little  reverence  shown,  the  statement  in  the 

"Cf.  Ancren  Riwle  38:26,  Compassio  Mariae  (E.  E.  T.  S.  103)  14,  41.  North 
Leg.  23:51,  South.  Leg.  39:65,  42:  m,  etc. 

"Juliana  52:5,  Meidan  Marcgrcte  (ed.  Horstmann.  Alten^M.  Lcp.  1882)  193,010. 

"  Poems  of  Harl.  2253  Welt.  Lieder  2 :  24,  3:7,  etc. 

"Cf.  Gen.  &  Ex.  2616,  Havelok  2797,  Cursor  Mundi  4340,  etc. 

''North.  Leg.    14:212,  34:408.  "  Cursor  Mundi  28010. 

"  Robt.  of  Glouc.  832,  5858,  6960,  8968,  Cursor  Mundi  434J. 


204  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

New  English  Dictionary  that  "the  early  occurrence  of  Dame  in  the  sense 
of  mother  suggests  that  an  A.  F.  and  early  M.  E.  ma  dame  was  very 
commonly  used  by  children  to  their  mother"  seems  rather  questionable. 
In  the  English,  at  least,  the  early  dame  merely  took  on  the  ideas  of  wife, 
mother,  housekeeper,  without  any  special  deference  or  reverence ;  whereas 
ma  dame  carried  with  it  from  the  first,  if  we  may  judge  from  the  few 
extant  examples  of  its  early  use,  the  ideas  manifest  in  the  new  French 
culture,  manifest  also  in  such  polite  terms  as  sire,  belamy,  beau  sire, 
beau  frere,  etc. 

Sire  came  into  use  early  in  the  thirteenth  century  to  take  the  place 
of  the  older,  more  abrupt  vocative  mon,  and  at  the  same  time  to  intro- 
duce a  new  element  of  deference.  The  nun,  in  the  Ancren  Riwle, 
addresses  her  supposed  critic  with  mesire,  the  woman  uses  sire  in 
speaking  to  her  confessor,  Christ  is  addressed  with  sire.-^  It  is,  of 
course,  common  in  Floris  and  Blauncheflur,  where  practically  all  male 
characters  are  addressed  as  sire.^''  It  is  not  uncommon  to  find  it  used 
with  the  name  of  the  person  addressed,  as,  for  example.  Sire  Daris, 
Sire  Chauntecler  ^^  or  with  the  common  noun  naming  the  rank  of  the 
one  spoken  to,  as.  Sire  Emperoure,  Sire  Duke,  Sire  King,  tXcP  In  the 
lives  of  saints,  both  Northern  and  Southern  collections,  sir{e)  is  used 
in  all  cases  where  the  man  addressed  is  at  all  above  ordinary  rank, 
emperors,  princes,  judges,  bishops,  saints,  etc.  being  addressed  with 
the  same  respectful  title. ^°  Evidently  it  is  regarded  as  the  title  due  to 
men  of  higher  social  status,  for  in  the  legends  even  when  the  saints 
become  contemptuous  or  openly  hostile  toward  the  rulers  they  continue 
to  sir  them.^^ 

In  the  later  literature  of  the  period  under  consideration  the  word 
is  used — often  where  no  rank  is  deferred  to  in  the  person  addressed 
but  where  there  is  evident  a  striving  for  formality,  a  rather  un-English 
effort  to  flatter  the  one  addressed.  So  the  poet  addresses  his  readers, 
not  as  men  or  gode  men,  but  as  sires,  palmer  and  porter  call  each  other 
sire,  wife  addresses  husband  as  sire,  etc.^^ 


"Cf.  Ancren  Riwle  52:6,  316:  11,  318:  13,  406:8,  etc. 

^'Fl.  &  Bl.  38,  173,  577,  etc. 

**Cf.  Fl.  &  Bl.  158,  Vox  and  Wolf  (ed.  Maetzner,  Sprachproben  I)  37, 
Laj.  24485,  etc. 

"Cf.  North.  Leg.  28:  137,  34 :  89,  South.  Leg.  10:  482,  26:  83,  Horn  838,  Havelok 
2861,  Robt.  of  Glouc.  4450,  etc. 

^Cf.  North.  Leg.  14:69,  17:235,  19:71,  South.  Leg.  6:407,  10:591,  etc. 

*'Cf.  North.  Leg.  34:89,  South.  Leg.  20:  128,  25:  15,  etc. 

*^Cf.  Cursor  Mundi  23561,  Legend  of  Eustace  (ed.  Horstmann,  Altengl.  Leg. 
1882)  376,  North.  Leg.   16:752,  Legend  of  Marina  (ed.  Boddeker)   144,  etc. 


MIDDLE   ENGLISH    FORMS   OF   ADDRESS — KENNEDY  205 

The  later  common  use  of  the  word  as  the  title  of  a  man  of  knightly 
rank  is  seen  in  a  few  instances  in  literature  of  about  the  end  of  the 
thirteenth  century. ^^ 

On  the  whole  there  is,  perhaps,  no  other  word  among  the  early 
French  importations  that  shows  as  markedly  the  coming  of  a  new 
culture  into  England  as  does  this  word  sire.  The  old  blunt  mode  of 
address  has  almost  universally  disappeared  before  the  softening  influence 
of  this  new  vocative. 

Thus  the  way  is  paved  for  the  use  of  a  number  of  other  forms  of 
address  which  are  in  their  original  signification  words  of  respect  or 
aflFection.  While  the  Ancren  Riwle  is  not  given  over  generally  to  French 
forms  of  address  but  the  writer  usually  employs  such  native  terms  as 
leoue  suster,  leoue  men,  etc.,  yet  an  occasional  use  of  belami  shows  his 
familiarity  with  French  culture.^*  So  also  the  occasional  appearance  of 
the  word  in  later  thirteenth-century  literature  suggests  a  familiarity 
with  it  in  the  intercourse  of  every  day  life.^^  In  a  number  of  instances, 
where  a  king,  prince  or  magistrate  addresses  as  belami  a  prisoner  or 
accused  person  there  is  a  certain  element  of  condescension  or  hostility 
which  quite  belies  the  seeming  friendliness  of  the  word.^**  Moreover  one 
cannot  be  certain  that  even  a  saint  uses  the  word  with  sincerity  toward 
human  foes  when  he  addresses  even  a  devil  as  belami.^'' 

Most  of  the  other  French  titles  of  respect  which  can  be  cited  for 
the  thirteenth  century  are  to  be  found  in  the  South  English  Legendary 
which  displays  so  many  evidences  of  strong  French  influence.  Becket 
is  addressed  as  beau  sire  by  the  king  and  St.  Christopher  receives  the 
same  title  from  a  stranger.^^  The  king  addresses  his  bishops  as  beau 
seignonrs,^^  beau  pere  is  addressed  to  the  pope  by  the  bishop  of  London  ^* 
and  beau  frere  is  used  quite  frequently,  sometimes  in  a  distinctly  friendly 
sense,  as  when  the  pope  addresses  the  Earl  of  Arundel,  or  a  bishop  calls 
Sir  Owayn  beau  frere,  sometimes  to  show  merely  a  good-natured  attitude 
toward  a  stranger  and  occasionally  to  an  enemy,  even,  who  is  to  be 
propitiated,  if  possible.*" 


"Cf.  'Sir  Simond  ffrysel'  in  Harl.  2253,  Polit.  Liedcr  6:154. 

"Cf.  Ancren  Riwle  296:9,  366:27,  and  for  belami  306:  19,  338:23. 

"Fl.  &  Bl.  633,  Assumptio  Marine  (E.  E.  T.  S.  14)  132,  South.  Leg.  27:816, 
Cursor  Mundi  20176,  Robt.  of  Glouc.  8020,  Kildare  Poems  5:93.  etc. 

"Cf.   South.  Leg.    19:33,  37:279,  43:17,   48:65,   55:214- 

"Cf.  South.  Leg.  15:354,  etc. 

"  South.  Leg.  27  :  469,  40  :  38. 

"  South.  Leg.  27  :  443. 

*"  South.  Leg.  27:1263,  35:53;  27:1869,  35:520,  40:38.  63:441;  60:175, 
420,  etc. 


206  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL   VOLUME 

Related  in  spirit  to  this  last  group  of  vocatives,  but  formed  of  native 
stock  is  the  title  lording  (loaerding,  louerdling,  etc.)  which  plays  quite 
a  prominent  part  among  the  forms  of  address  used  in  the  later  literature 
of  this  period.  In  this  word  the  new  culture  seems  to  have  even  gone 
so  far  as  to  coin  out  of  old  materials  of  the  land  a  new  title  of  address 
to  perform  an  entirely  new  function.  For  nowhere  in  the  older  English 
usage  do  I  find  anything  to  correspond  to  lording  as  it  is  used  by  the 
poet  in  addressing  his  readers,*^  by  kings  and  men  of  high  rank  in 
speaking  to  earls,  bishops,  etc.,*'  or  by  any  speaker,  of  high  or  low  estate, 
who  desires  to  show  a  half-flattering  courtesy  to  common  men  of  no 
special  rank.*^  Lajamon,  who  seems  not  to  have  had  many  French  words 
in  his  vocabulary,  uses  this  complimentary  diminutive — thrice,  at  least, 
it  is  changed  in  the  later  or  B-version  to  the  double  diminutive  louerd- 
ling ** — perhaps  because,  with  all  its  foreign  airs,  it  still  sounds  like  a 
native  Anglo-Saxon.  The  author  of  Cursor  Mundi  is  especially  fond  of 
using  it  in  addressing  his  readers. 

One  cannot  read  thru  English  literature  of  the  thirteenth  century 
without  gaining  some  very  definite  impressions  concerning  the  new 
influence  which  has  been  at  work  upon  the  old  culture — or,  as  the  Nor- 
man invaders  would  probably  have  expressed  it,  the  old  lack  of  culture. 
The  older  native  vocatives  were  blunt,  intended  to  attract  attention  in  a 
thoroly  business-like  way ;  the  newer  ones  often  carried  with  them  a 
slight  touch  of  respectfulness  or  aflfection.  Where,  for  example,  the 
speaker  in  olden  days  said  cyning,  or  Alfred,  the  man  of  later  times 
would  probably  add  a  Sire.  Again,  the  older  vocatives  were  carefully 
adapted  to  the  ofificial  rank  or  social  standing  of  the  person  addressed 
whereas  the  newer  ones  were  applied  not  only  to  persons  who  deserved 
the  titles  but  in  many  cases  were  degraded  to  apply  to  people  in  lower 
degree  merely  as  a  matter  of  compliment,  at  times,  indeed,  as  a  sly  form 
of  flattery.  So  general,  indeed,  became  their  application  that  they  lost 
much  of  their  forcefulness  and  the  use  of  them  often  became  a  mere 
empty  formality.  And  finally,  the  older  vocative  was  generally  demanded 
by  the  very  exigencies  of  the  case — if  a  man  was  called  drihten  or  hlaford 
it  was  usually  because  the  title  was  his  by  right  of  social  standing — 


"  Ormulum  918,  11679,  Cursor  Mundi  6863,  9375,  etc. 

*^Cf.  Ormulum  6406,  Laj.  14828,  27394,  Fl.  &  Bl.  647,  South.  Leg.  27:549,  795, 
Robt.  of  Glouc.  6874,  1 1564,  etc. 

**Cf.  Laj.  12664,  South.  Leg.  27:1517,  37:166,  Havelok  1401,  Cursor  Mundi 
6216,  8699,  14223,  Robt.  of  Glouc.  4033,  9360,  etc. 

"Laj.  B.  12664,  13211,  14828. 


MIDDLE   ENGLISH    FORMS   OF   ADDRESS —  KENNEDY  207 

whereas  the  bestowal  of  the  newer  title  was  often  a  voluntary  act  of 
courtesy,  a  giving  of  good  measure  in  the  everyday  transactions  of  life. 
If  the  older  usage  was  more  blunt,  it  was  at  the  same  time  more 
fionest,  more  careful  of  the  deserts,  socially  speaking,  of  the  one 
addressed,  whereas  the  new  culture,  while  it  brought  with  it  a  more 
courteous  mode  of  address,  at  the  same  time  dealt  out  these  titles  of 
courtesy  so  promiscuously  that  as  coins  of  social  exchange  they  deterio- 
rated greatly  in  value. 


THE  LIFE  OF  THEOCRITUS 

Augustus  Taber  Murray 

FOR  THE  reconstruction  of  the  life  of  Theocritus  we  have  almost  no 
information  except  such  as  we  can  derive  from  the  study  of  the 
Idyls  themselves.  There  is  to  be  sure  an  anonymous  Vita,  a  short 
article  in  Suidas,  and  scattered  notes  in  the  hypotheses  and  scholia  to  the 
various  Idyls ;  but  from  these  we  learn  little,  and  that  little  is  in  most 
instances  plainly  based,  not  upon  independent  knowledge,  but  upon  infer- 
ences, sometimes  patently  incorrect,  from  the  language  of  the  poet  himself. 
That  Theocritus  was  a  Sicilian,  a  native  of  Syracuse,  may  be  said 
to  be  a  fact  now  universally  accepted.  It  is  stated  in  the  Vita  and 
in  Suidas  (though  the  latter  adds  ol  M  q)aoL  Kwov)  ;  it  is  a  necessary 
inference  from  the  poet's  own  words  (see  e.  g.  Idyl  XI,  7,  6  Kvyd.oi'y^, 
6  jtttQ'  dfxiv,  and  Idyl  XXVIII,  16,  diijiexeQag  dnv  /dovog,  mention  of 
Syracuse  immediately  following)  ;  and  moreover  the  poetry  of  Theoc- 
ritus is  in  its  essence  thoroughly  Sicilian.  This  last  fact  does  not  of  itself 
necessarily  prove  Sicilian  birth  for  the  poet,  for  it  is  at  least  conceivable 
that  he  may  have  come  to  Sicily  (from  Cos,  e.g.)  sufficiently  early  in 
life  to  have  his  genius  not  only  influenced,  but  in  a  large  measure  shaped 
by  Sicilian  surroundings.  At  the  same  time  the  character  of  the  poetry 
of  Theocritus  is  best  explained  on  the  assumption  that  he  was  native  to 
these  Sicilian  influences,  and  that  he  grew  up  in  the  midst  of  them. 
Moreover  there  is  no  real  evidence  leading  us  to  think  of  any  other  place 
than  Sicily  as  the  poet's  birthplace.  That  he  spent  much  time  in  Cos 
later  in  Hfe,  and  that  he  wrote  many  of  his  poems  there,  is  incontestable; 
but  save  for  the  doubtful  statement  in  Suidas,  there  is  nothing  to  lead  us 
to  think  he  was  a  Coan  by  birth. 

This  view,  has,  however,  been  held;  and  elaborate  theories  have 
been  built  up,  based  largely  on  a  scholium  on  Idyl  VII,  21,  which  thus 
explains  the  name  Simichidas — the  pseudonym  under  which  Theocritus 
himself  is  introduced  into  Idyl  VII:  2i[xixi8a-  01  \ikv  adtov  cpaai 
0e6xqitov     xa^o  ^imxiSov  {^i\xiyov  ?)  fjv  mog,  f|  xa^o  ai\ibq  fjv.    01  §8 

ETSQOV  TlVa  TWV  OVV  OVXM  Xttl  OV  ©EOXQITOV       .       .       .       CpaoX  be  TOY  TOIO^TOV 

djio  jiatQiou  xXT]dfivai,  aitb  Hiyay'ibov  xov  UeQiyMovg  tcov  'OQXo\iEyi(iiv, 
oiTiveg  jtoXiTEiac;  jraQct  Kcooig    T£TVXi1Haoiv.     The  allusion  to  Orchomenus 


THE    LIFE    OF   THEOCRITUS —  MURRAY  2O9 

in  Idyl  X\'I,  104  f.,  although  plainly  a  reminiscence  of  Pindar,  has  been 
brought  into  connection  with  this. 

The  scholium  is  corrupt,  and  has  been  variously  emended  according 
to  the  sense  desired  by  the  individual  critic ;  and  although  we  may  grant 
that  there  may  have  been  among  the  Orchomenian  exiles,  who  found 
shelter  in  Cos  after  the  destruction  of  their  city  by  Thebes  in  364,  a 
certain  Simichidas  (or  Simichus),  son  of  Pericles,  this  offers  but  a 
slender  basis  upon  which  to  build  up  a  theory  regarding  Theocritus'  birth 
and  connections.  Some  may  be  willing  to  go  even  further,  and  (since 
the  name  of  Theocritus'  father,  Praxagoras,  is  attested  for  Cos)  assume 
that  the  poet's  family  was  of  Coan  stock ;  but  there  remains  as  the  most 
probable  explanation  of  the  scholium  the  assumption  that  the  scholiast 
knew  as  little  as  we  about  the  reasons  why  the  name  Simichidas  was 
given  to  Theocritus,  and  is  but  groping  in  the  dark  in  making  these 
statements ;  and  moreover  this  assumed  Orchomenian  connection  may 
after  all  concern  the  eteqov  tiva  and  not  Theocritus  at  all.  (On 
this  baffling  subject  reference  may  be  made  to  Hauler,  De  Theocriti  Vita 
et  Cartnifiibus,  6  f . ;  Susemihl,  Geschichte  der  Griechischcn  Litteratiir 
in  der  Alcxandrinerceit,  I  198  A.  6,  and  Jahrhiicher  1896,  391  ;  v.  Wila- 
mowitz,  Aratos  von  Kos,  193  n.  3 ;  Legrand,  £tude,  47  ff- !  ^"^1 
Cholmeley,  Introd.  8f.). 

As  to  the  course  of  the  poet's  life  we  have  certain  tangible  facts 
deducible  with  more  or  less  certainty  from  the  poems  themselves ;  but 
the  sequence  of  these  facts  and  their  relations  to  one  another  are  matters 
of  debate ;  and  the  dating  of  the  poems  from  which  they  are  deduced 
is  often  problematic  in  the  extreme.  As  such  facts  may  be  mentioned 
the  following: 

(1)  Theocritus  sought  to  win  the  favor  of  Hiero  II,  tyrant  of 
Syracuse,  and  to  find  in  him  a  patron  (Idyl  XVI).  This  was  apparently 
in  275-4,  a  date  now  all  but  universally  accepted. 

(2)  He  addressed  a  similar  appeal  to  Ptolemy  II  (Idyl  XVII). 
The  precise  date  of  this  has  been  a  matter  of  much  debate,  but  Idyl  XVII 
is  now  generally  accepted  as  being  later  than  Idyl  XVI.  In  any  case  it 
antedates  271-0,  the  date  of  the  death  of  Arsinoe  II.  This  poem  pre- 
supposes a  stay  in  Alexandria  on  the  part  of  Theocritus,  as  do  also 
Idyl  XV  and  the  Berenice.  The  friendship  existing  between  the  poet 
and  Callimachus  points  to  the  same  conclusion. 

(3)  Theocritus  visited  Cos,  more  than  once,  it  would  appear,  and 
must  be  assumed  to  have  spent  much  time  there  (Idyl  VII).  Several  of 
the  other  Idyls  are  believed  to  have  been  written  in  Cos  {e.  g.  I,  II,  III, 


210  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

VI  and  others),  the  quality  of  the  evidence  differing  in  the  case  of  the 
different  Idyls.  Idyl  VII  further  proves  Theocritus  to  have  been  a 
member  of  a  literary  circle,  though  the  identification  of  the  individuals 
mentioned  (under  pseudonyms)   in  the  Idyl  is  most  uncertain. 

(4)  That  Theocritus  studied  under  PhiUtas,^  the  poet-scholar  of 
Cos,  is  an  assumption  based  upon  Idyl  VII,  and  widely  accepted  in 
modern  times,  and  plays  an  important  part  in  modern  attempts  to  recon- 
struct the  life  of  Theocritus. 

(5)  Theocritus  counted  among  his  friends  Nicias,  a  physician  of 
Miletus,  and  visited  him  at  his  home  (Idyl  XXVIII).  Idyls  XI  and 
XIII  and  Epigram  VIII  are  also  addressed  to  Nicias. 

(6)  Another  of  the  friends  of  Theocritus  must  be  noted,  the  Aratus 
of  Idyl  VII,  to  whom  Idyl  VI  is  also  addressed.  This  Aratus,  tradition- 
ally identified  with  the  astronomer-poet  of  Soli,  the  author  of  the 
Phaenomena,  is  now  generally  believed  to  have  been  a  Coan,  otherwise 
unknown,  whose  acquaintance  Theocritus  had  made  when  visiting  Cos. 
If,  however,  as  the  present  writer  fully  believes,  the  old  identification 
was  well  grounded,  then  in  reconstructing  the  course  of  the  life  of 
Theocritus  his  friendship  with  Aratus  of  Soli  must  be  taken  into  con- 
sideration. I  have  elsewhere  given  my  reasons  for  holding  that  the 
years  between  274  and  271  cover  the  period  at  which  this  friendship  may 
most  probably  have  been  contracted.^ 

(7)  Theocritus  appears  to  have  received  commissions  to  write  dedi- 
catory epigrams  for  statues  of  Anacreon,  Archilochus  Pisander,  and 
Epicharmus.  This  fact  may  reasonably  lead  us  to  the  conclusion  that  he 
visited  Teos,  Rhodes,  etc. 

(8)  From  Idyl  XXX,  13,  it  is  evident  that  Theocritus'  literary 
activity  lasted  until  his  hair  was  flecked  with  grey.  We  can  with  at 
least  a  fair  approximation  to  truth  fix  the  date  of  his  birth ;  as  to  the 
date  of  his  death  we  have  no  real  evidence. 

(9)  From  the  poems  we  may  derive  certain  secondary  inferences: 


'This  spelling  of  the  name  (instead  of  the  traditional  Philetas)  is  advocated 
by  Cronert  in  Hermes,  1902,  42,  and  has  been  widely  accepted. 

*  See  the  present  writer's  articles,  The  Bucolic  Poems  of  Theocritus  (Trans- 
actions of  the  American  Philological  Association,  1907,  125  ff.),  and  Aratus  and 
Theocritus  {Matzke  Memorial  Volume,  139  ff.).  It  should  in  justice  be  said,  how- 
ever, that  my  defense  of  the  traditional  identification  of  the  .A.ratus  of  Theocritus  with 
the  poet  of  Soli  has  met  with  no  acceptance  by  the  scholars  who  have  reviewed  the 
latter  of  the  two  above-mentioned  papers.  See,  in  particular,  Rannow  in  the 
Berliner  Philologischc  Wochcnschrift,  1913,  35-41  ;  Sitzler  in  the  Wochenschrift 
fiir  Classichc  Philotogie,  1912,  1048-1051  ;    Taccone,  Gli  Idilli  di   Teocrito,  88  n.   i. 


THK    LM-K    OF   THEOCRITUS —  MURRAY  211 

that  Theocritus  took  the  side  of  CaUimachus  in  his  famous  controversy 
with  Apollonius  ;  that  in  writing  Idyl  VII  he  was  influenced  by  CaUi- 
machus' Hymn  to  Zeus;  that  he  himself  strongly  influenced  Herodas,  etc. 

We  may  take  up  first  the  view — it  can  hardly  be  called  a  tradition — 
that  Theocritus  in  early  life  studied  at  Cos  under  Philitas.  The  time 
is  generally  assumed  to  have  been  292  circa;  and  it  was  formerly  held 
that  a  group  of  poets  gathered  in  Cos  (including,  besides  Philitas  and 
Asclepiades,  Dosiadas,  Leonidas  of  Tarentum  (  ?),  Alexander  of  Aetolia, 
Nicias,  Aratus  (?),  and  Theocritus,  and  very  possibly  others),  forming 
a  sort  of  bucolic  brotherhood,  masquerading  in  pastoral  garb,  and  calling 
one  another  by  nicknames  (Theocritus  e.  g.  was  Simichidas).  This 
view  was  until  recently  very  widely  accepted,  and  based  upon  it  there 
grew  up  a  pernicious  system  of  interpreting  the  bucolic  poems  of  Theo- 
critus as  reflections  of  this  artificial  phase  of  the  poet's  life,  the  figures 
of  the  pastoral  poems  being  in  the  most,  or  even  in  all,  cases  regarded 
merely  as  disguised  poets,  and  the  poems  themselves  anything  rather 
than  transcripts  from  a  fife  which  could  lay  claim  to  reality.  The 
theory  that  there  ever  was  such  a  bucolic  school  has  now  very  generally 
been  given  up;  but  the  belief  that  Theocritus  visited  the  east  in  the 
period  of  his  youth  or  early  manhood  is  still  very  generally  retained. 

It  is  enough  here  to  note  that  the  statements  in  the  rita,  in  Choero- 
boscus,  and  in  the  scholia  regarding  this  assumed  period  of  study  under 
Philitas  and  Asclepiades  are  plainly  nothing  more  than  inferences  based 
upon  the  way  in  which  those  poets  are  mentioned  in  Idyl  \TI  (I'ita 
(I)v  nvt]|iov6itEi ;  schol.  6oxei  a.v.ovori]g  y^YovEvai),  and  that  no  evi- 
dence can  be  advanced  from  any  source  to  prove  that  it  existed  except 
in  the  fertile  imaginations  of  the  scholars,  old  and  new.  As  for  Idyl 
\TI,  it  may  be  stated  that  it  is  the  only  one  in  which  we  have  any 
tangible  evidence  for  the  existence  of  this  purely  artificial  sort  of  pas- 
toral,— a  sort  of  poetry  i.  e.  in  which  the  pastoral  setting  is  used  without 
any  attempt  to  re-create  a  really  pastoral  world,  and  in  which  we  have 
a  "bucolic  masquerade,"  and  not  a  reflection  of  real  life.  Moreover 
Idyl  VII  is  relatively  late,  and  we  naturally  derive  from  it  the  imjircs- 
sion  that  the  poet,  after  making  a  name  by  his  real  pastorals,  allowed 
himself  this  playful  treatment  of  his  literary  friendships.  In  other 
words.  Idyl  VII  is  not  typical  of  the  Theocritean  pastoral,  and  it  of 
itself  presupposes  on  the  part  of  the  poet's  literary  circle  an  acquaint- 
ance with  genuine  pastoral  verse, — an  acquaintance  which  we  may 
unhesitatingly  hold  to  have  been  due  to  Theocritus'  own  bucolic  pieces. 
(On  this  whole  question  reference  may  be   made  to  the   writer's 


212  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL   VOLUME 

paper  on  The  Bucolic  Poems  of  Theocritus,  in  the  Transactions  of  the 
American  Philological  Association,  1907,  125  ff.) 

We  come  back  now  to  our  original  starting  point :  Theocritus, 
born  in  Syracuse  (the  question  as  to  the  approximate  date  will  be  touched 
upon  later),  addressed  a  poem  to  Hiero  in  275-4  in  the  hope  of  finding 
a  patron  in  the  Syracusan  prince.  In  this  he  failed ;  and  in  the  years 
immediately  following  we  find  him  in  Egypt,  seeking  to  win  the  favor 
of  Ptolemy. 

These  dates,  275-4  for  Idyl  XVI,  and  271  circa  for  Idyl  XVII,  are 
virtually  the  only  ones  bearing  on  the  poet's  life  that  can  be  said  to  be 
established;  and  even  these  have  been  disputed.  Some  scholars  (Gercke 
e.  g.)  have  sought  to  place  Idyl  XVII  earlier  than  Idyl  XVI;  but  such 
attempts  have  been  futile. 

Now  what  does  Idyl  XVI  reveal  to  us  regarding  the  poet's  develop- 
ment? Is  he  a  beginner,  or  has  he  already  become  master  of  his  art? 
Is  he  unknown,  or  is  his  fame  already  established?  More  important 
still,  what  is  the  bent  of  his  genius? 

To  these  questions  varying  answers  have  been  given,  and  the  more 
prudent  course  is  to  content  oneself  with  deductions  which  seem  plainly 
warrantable,  and  not  to  seek  to  prove  too  much.  Idyl  XVI  is  the  earliest 
datable  poem  in  the  Theocritean  collection ;  what  impression  does  it 
make  on  an  unbiased  reader? 

First  we  may  say  that  the  fame  of  the  author  is  certainly  not  estab- 
lished. He  writes  with  modesty  and  self-distrust,  and  as  regards  the 
world  of  letters  it  may  be  said  that  the  poem  reads  like  the  work  of  a 
novice ;  but  this  does  not  prove  that  as  regards  the  work  of  poetic  compo- 
sition the  poet  is  a  beginner.  On  the  contrary  the  poem  shows  a  warmth 
of  poetic  feeling,  and  a  power  of  expression,  which  produce  a  strong 
impression  that  in  these  matters  the  poet  has  already  served  his  appren- 
ticeship. Again  Idyl  XVI  is  thoroughly  steeped  in  reminiscences  of 
Pindar  and  Simonides  and  Bacchylides.  The  poet  is  a  man  of  culture 
and  reading.  He  is  not,  however,  representative  of  the  learned  manner 
of  the  Alexandrians,  nor  is  there  any  trace  of  the  influence  of  Calli- 
machus  e.  g.  The  learned  allusion  in  vss.  104  fif.  is  plainly  suggested  by 
Pindar's  frequent  references  to  the  Charites  as  the  givers  of  the  grace 
of  song. 

Another  interesting  fact  must  be  noted.  In  this  early  Idyl,  when 
Theocritus  turns  to  portray  the  blessings  of  the  peace  which  Hiero  is  to 
establish  by  driving  the  Carthaginians  from  Sicily,  his  most  charac- 
teristic vein  of  poetry  reveals  itself: 


THE    LIFE    OF   THEOCRITUS —  MURRAY  213 

dyQW?  6'  tgydtfiiyxo  TEdaXoTag  •  at  6'  dvdgidnoi 
jit'iXcuv  x^Xidbe^  ^oxd-vq.  biojiiavdeioai 
an  jiefeiov  {ih^x^'^o,  (iJoE;  b'  dyEh]bbv  e;  av/.iv 
iQy6[ievai  axviq^aiov  EKiojieuftoiEv  obitav 
veioi  6'  exjtovEoivTO  :ioti  okooov,  uvixa  tetti^ 
jtoi^iEvuc,  EvSioug  m(pvKay\ie\oq  vi|>6di  6Evb()CL»v 
dxEi  ev  dxQE^ovEooiv  •  dpdxvia  8'  slg  ojiyw'  dgdyyai. 
Xenid  8iaaTT|oaivTO,  Poag  8'  eti  \ir\b'  ovojx'  eit]. 

— rxvi  90  ff.) 

Surely  this  is  significant.  Theocritus,  a  born  Sicilian,  not  only  shows 
in  indubitably  authentic  poems  an  acquaintance  with  and  a  sympathetic 
love  for  the  region  of  Sicily  and  southern  Italy,  but  in  this,  his  earliest 
datable  poem,  we  find  this  love  expressed  in  terms  of  pastoral  life — 
precisely  as  in  later  poems,  which  are  not  at  all  bucolic  in  theme,  we  find 
the  same  tendency.  This  is  marked  in  the  Hylas  e.  g.  (Idyl  XIII)  ;  see 
in  particular  vss.  10  flF.,  25  f.,  34  f.,  39  ff.,  and  compare  Idyl  XXV,  if 
that  be  Theocritean.  May  we  not  say  with  practical  certainty  that  we 
have  in  this  a  proof  that  the  surroundings  amid  which  the  poet's  genius 
took  shape  were  Sicilian?  Surely,  if  this  is  so,  his  first  poetic  attempts 
would  most  naturally  seek  to  interpret  this  life  with  its  frank  realism, 
but  also  with  its  background  of  beautiful  nature  and  beautiful  legend. 

Whether  or  not  we  have  in  Theocritus'  bucolic  pieces  any  work 
actually  composed  in  this  early  Sicilian  period  we  cannot  say.  Reflec- 
tions of  the  impressions  received  during  these  years  we  certanly  have, 
even  though  it  be  true  that  the  bucolic  poems  one  and  all  belong  to  a 
distinctly  later  date.  For  these  poems  are  not,  what  many  scholars 
would  make  them,  thoroughly  artificial  compositions  in  which  the  life, 
the  loves,  and  the  songs  of  real  herdsmen  play  no  part;  but  pictures 
essentially  true  to  life,  and  above  all  suggested  by  life, — a  life  which 
the  poet  knew  and  the  charm  of  w^hich  he  felt. 

This  fact  I  must  hold  to  be  completely  established,  and  upon  it  the 
interpretation  of  the  Theocritean  pastorals  should  be  based,  even  if  we 
find  ourselves  forced  to  admit  something  of  learned  allusiveness  and  of 
artificiality,  or  for  that  matter  forced  to  accept  the  bucolic  masquerade. 
These  things  are  not  the  essence  of  the  Theocritean  pastorals ;  they  are 
extraneous  elements  which  intruded  themselves  into  his  later  work,  and 
which  may  well  have  given  rise  to  the  antique  criticism  of  his  work  as 
excellent  7ikr\v  oXiycav  e^coOev.  ([Longinus],  On  the  Sublime,  33; 
see  V.  Wilamowitz,  Aratos  von  Kos,  192  f.)  Yet,  strange  to  say,  these 
same  extraneous  things  have  been  taken  as  fundamental  by  many  modem 


214  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

interpreters  of  Theocritus,  and  the  very  existence  of  a  genuine  pastoral 
has  been  denied;  as  though  Theocritus  were  as  unreal  and  artificial  as 
Pope  and  Philips  and  the  other  pseudo-idyllists  of  our  own  literature. 

Among  the  extant  poems  Idyl  XI  has  seemed  the  one  which  may 
with  the  greatest  likelihood  be  referred  to  this  early  period.  The  theme 
chosen  is  thoroughly  Sicilian,  and  the  style  has  been  thought  to  betray 
the  poet's  manner  before  he  had  attained  to  the  finished  elegance  of  the 
later  poems  (so  v.  Wilamowitz,  Aratos  von  Kos,  183;  Textgeschichte, 
159;  and  Susemihl,  Jahrhiicher,  1896,  388).  Now  Idyl  XI  is  addressed 
to  Theocritus'  friend,  Nicias  of  Miletus ;  so  that  the  problem  of  chron- 
ology becomes  at  once  important.  If  an  early  poem  is  addressed  to 
Nicias,  must  not  Theocritus  have  been  in  the  east  during  the  early  years 
of  his  life?  It  is  hardly  likely  that  in  the  years  preceding  275  the 
Milesian  would  have  found  occasion  to  visit  Syracuse, 

The  extant  poems  which  bear  upon  the  relation  existing  between 
the  two  men  (Idyls  XI,  XIII,  XXVIII,  and  Epigram  VIII)  suggest 
that  they  were  nearly  of  the  same  age;  that  a  warm  affection  and 
sympathy  existed  between  them;  and  that  this  close  association  lasted 
long;  so  that  we  may  think  of  Theocritus  as  having  been  not  once  only, 
but  often  the  guest  of  Nicias  and  Theugenis  in  their  Milesian  home.  (On 
the  relations  between  Theocritus  and  Nicias  see  Hauler,  1 1  f . ;  von 
Wilamowitz,  Textgeschichte,  159  f.;  Susemihl,  Jahrhiicher,  1896,  384  f. ; 
Helm,  Hermes,  1894,  161  ff. ;  and  Jahrbucher,  1897,  389  ff. ;  Legrand, 
Etude,  49  ff.) 

That  they  were  of  about  the  same  age  is  a  natural  inference  from 
the  way  in  which  Theocritus  writes  to  his  friend,  and  the  frankness  with 
which  that  friend's  love  affairs  are  treated  in  Idyl  XI;  while  in  Idyl 
XIII  we  have  a  poetic  treatment  of  the  ideal  passion  of  Heracles  for  the 
youth  Hylas  as  a  passion  the  like  of  which  both  poet  and  reader  had 
known.  Idyl  XXVIII  may  well  be  the  latest  of  the  three  (although 
XIII  must  be  put  at  least  as  late  as  the  appearance  of  the  Argonautica 
of  Apollonius),  and  was  written  to  accompany  the  gift  of  a  silver 
distaff  sent  (or  brought)  by  the  poet  as  a  gift  to  the  wife  of  his  friend. 
This  is  often  assumed  to  date  from  274  circa,  and  is  held  to  prove  that 
when  going  to  the  east  at  that  time  Theocritus  went  at  once  to  Miletus 
to  the  house  of  his  friend.  For  this  there  is  not  a  shadow  of  evidence. 
The  poem  leads  rather  to  the  belief  that  at  the  time  it  was  written 
Theocritus  had  long  known  Theugenis  as  well  as  Nicias,  and  that  this 
was  not  his  first  visit  to  their  home.    Epigram  VIII  cannot  be  dated. 

It  is  ordinarily  assumed  that  Theocritus  and  Nicias  became  friends 


THE    LIFE    OF   THEOCRITUS —  MURRAY  215 

during  the  period  of  the  former's  student  Hfe  in  Cos  (i.  e.  circa  295). 
The  view  that  there  ever  was  such  a  period  of  study  under  Philitas  has 
already  been  touched  upon  and  discarded  for  lack  of  evidence.  There 
is  really  no  evidence  to  show  that  Theocritus  was  ever  in  the  east  until 
he  turned  thither  after  his  repulse  by  Iliero,  unless  this  friendship  with 
Nicias  compels  us  to  assume  this ;  and  it  will  be  seen  that  this  is  not 
the  case. 

We  must  first  ask  ourselves  how  old  Theocritus  was  in  275-4. 
Scholars  have  as  a  rule  been  inclined  to  fix  the  date  of  his  birth  at  315 
circa,  on  which  assumption  he  would  have  reached  the  age  of  forty  at 
the  time  of  his  approach  to  Hiero ;  and  as  it  is  commonly  assumed  that 
his  truly  productive  period  falls  at  least  ten  or  fifteen  years  later  than 
that,  we  find  ourselves  face  to  face  with  a  very  real  problem.  The  Greek 
men  of  letters  were  as  a  rule  not  precocious,  but  it  is  hard  indeed  to 
believe  that  Theocritus  began  so  late  in  life.  There  seems  therefore 
good  reason  to  follow  the  suggestion  of  Helm  (Jahrbiicher,  1897, 
389  fif.)  that  the  date  of  Theocritus'  birth  should  be  brought  down  to 
305  or  possibly  even  to  300.  On  this  assumption  the  tone  of  Idyl  XVI 
finds  complete  explanation,  and  the  fact  that  the  poet's  truly  productive 
period  falls  some  years  later  need  cause  no  surprise. 

We  return  now  to  Nicias.  The  facts  of  his  life  are  very  obscure, 
and  the  two  statements  which  have  come  down  to  us  (that  he  was 
(yuH(poiTT]xrig  of  Erasistratus,  and  that  he  was  court  physician  to  Seleucus 
in  294  circa, — traditions  which  can  hardly  be  brought  into  harmony  with 
one  another,  and  of  which  scholars  accept,  now  the  former,  now  the 
latter)  may  both  be  without  value  for  the  determination  of  the  date  of 
his  birth ;  and  there  remains  no  real  evidence  which  prevents  our  assum- 
ing that  he  was  born  at  approximately  the  same  time  as  Theocritus. 
Now,  if  Theocritus  was  aged  about  twenty-five  or  thirty  when  he  turned 
eastward  in  274,  and  if  he  then  met  Nicias  in  Cos  or  elsewhere,  all  is  in 
accord,  and  there  is  no  reason  whatever  to  see  in  this  friendship  a  ground 
for  assuming  that  Theocritus  had  at  a  still  earlier  period  spent  consid- 
erable time  in  the  eastern  world.  The  only  point  requiring  further 
consideration  is  the  character  of  Idyl  XI  and  the  supposed  early  date 
suggested  by  this. 

This  evidence  is  not  conclusive,  and  not  all  will  attach  as  much 
weight  to  metrical  evidence,  as  establishing  the  date  at  which  a  given 
poem  was  written,  as  v.  Wilamowitz  does.  Susemihl  e.  g.  (Jahrbiicher, 
1896,  388),  while  he  accepts  the  conclusion,  denies  the  validity  of  the 
grounds  on  which  it  is  based;  i.  e.  he  accepts  the  early  date  of  Idyl  XI 


2l6  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

without  evidence,  because  this  view  falls  in  well  with  the  theory  he  has 
formed  regarding  the  course  of  the  life  of  Theocritus.  I  am  myself 
inclined  to  accept  the  early  date  of  the  composition  of  Idyl  XI  without 
regard  to  theories.  The  theme  (the  amorous  Cyclops)  is  thoroughly 
Sicilian;  and  to  my  mind  it  may  be  regarded  as  certain  that  the  young 
poet  in  his  Sicilian  home  had  written  not  one,  but  many  such  pieces. 
Idyl  XVI,  as  we  have  seen,  reveals  a  poet  who,  while  yet  unknown, 
has  none  the  less  learned  his  art :  he  must  already  have  tried  his  hand 
at  many  a  piece  of  composition.  Now,  since  Idyl  XVI  shows  plainly 
the  "bucoHc"  bent  of  his  genius,  and  since  the  pastoral  element  in  real 
life  must  have  met  his  eyes  constantly  in  Sicily  and  southern  Italy,  we 
must  hold  that  it  is  wholly  probable  that  these  early  compositions  would 
be  largely  in  a  bucolic  vein.  When  the  poet  left  Sicily  for  the  larger 
world  he  may  have  carried  with  him  many  such  early  pieces;  and  if 
we  are  right  in  assuming  that  he  at  this  time  met  Nicias  and  became 
warmly  attached  to  him,  what  unlikelihood  is  there  in  the  assumption 
that  he  took  one  of  these  early  poems  and  addressed  it  to  his  friend, 
adapting  it  to  his  end  by  prefixing  a  few  dedicatory  lines,  in  which  he 
alludes  playfully  to  his  friend's  profession  (Nicias  was,  as  has  been 
stated,  a  doctor),  and  by  adding  a  couple  of  lines  at  the  end?  This  of 
course  does  not  admit  of  proof  ;  but  it  seems  a  wholly  natural  assumption. 

I  maintain  therefore  that  the  style  of  Idyl  XI,  taken  in  connection 
with  the  fact  that  it  was  dedicated  to  Nicias,  by  no  means  compels  the 
conclusion  that  Theocritus  had  been  in  the  east  before  he  went  thither 
after  his  repulse  by  Hiero.  Neither  do  the  literary  friendships  revealed 
by  Idyl  VII  compel  it;  and,  as  has  been  stated  above,  the  view  that 
Theocritus  was  a  student  in  Cos  during  the  lifetime  of  Philitas  has  now 
been  very  generally  abandoned  for  lack  of  evidence.  We  hold,  there- 
fore, to  the  view  outlined  above ;  and  find  in  the  influences  surrounding 
Theocritus  during  his  early  life  in  his  Sicilian  home  the  explanation  of 
the  character  of  his  poetry,  even  though  that  poetry  was  for  the  most 
part  written  later  in  life  and  in  the  eastern  world. 

Theocritus  then  turned  eastward  for  the  first  time  in  274  or  there- 
abouts, a  man  rather  under  than  over  thirty,  and  one  who  had  as  yet 
won  no  fame  as  a  man  of  letters.  He  may  well  have  been  attracted  to 
Cos  by  the  fame  of  the  island  as  a  literary  centre,  and  may  have 
remained  there  two  or  three  years.  There  he  presumably  met  Nicias, 
and  contracted  with  him  the  friendship  which  lasted  so  long.  There 
he  met  also,  in  all  probability,  Aratus  of  Soli,  who  may  be  assumed  to 
have   visited   Cos   on   his   way   from   Macedonia   to   Syria,    whither  he 


THE    LIFE    OF   THEOCRITUS —  MURRAY  21/ 

appears  to  have  gone  after  the  Uterary  circle,  which  had  gathered  around 
Antigonus  Gonatas  at  Pella,  was  broken  up  by  the  return  of  Pyrrhus 
from  Italy  in  274.  Here  in  Cos,  Theocritus  must  be  assumed  to  have 
entered  upon  a  Ufe  of  Uterary  activity  and  of  association  with  men  of 
letters,  with  some  at  least  of  whom  he  contracted  the  friendships  be- 
trayed for  us  by  Idyl  VII;  for  under  the  pseudonyms  occuring  in  that 
poem  we  may  well  believe  that  there  lie  hidden  the  names  of  men  famous 
in  that  day  in  the  world  of  letters.  The  problem  of  penetrating  these 
disguises,  while  naturally  a  fascinating  one,  is,  however,  baffling  in  the 
extreme,  and  certainty  is  not  to  be  attained. 

From  Cos,  sometime  before  271-0  Theocritus  went  to  Alexandria, 
the  brilliant  capital  of  the  Ptolemies.  Here  he  must  have  made  a  some- 
what prolonged  stay.  He  first  addressed  to  Ptolemy  an  elaborate  eulogy 
(Idyl  XVII)  whereby  he  evidently  sought  to  win  the  royal  favor,— 
and,  it  would  appear,  not  without  success.  Here  also  he  must  have 
written  the  brilliant  Adoniasiisae  (Idyl  XV),  which  gives  a  vivid  picture 
of  life  in  the  great  capital,  and  which  is  in  a  sense  a  companion  piece 
to  Idyl  XVII,  giving  to  the  queen,  Arsinoe,  in  her  turn  her  due  meed  of 
praise.  Further,  during  this  stay  in  Alexandria  Theocritus  became  the 
frend  of  Callimachus.  Indeed  even  Idyl  XVII  seems  to  show  clear 
traces  of  the  latter  poet's  influence,  and  to  have  been  modeled  upon  his 
Hymn  to  Zens.  This  friendship  must  have  been  a  lasting  one,  for  Idyls 
VII  and  XIII,  both  distinctly  later  in  date  than  Idyl  XVII,  show 
Theocritus  a  staunch  adherent  of  Callimachus  in  his  controversy  with 
Apollonius. 

After  this  somewhat  protracted  stay  in  Egypt,  Theocritus  must  be 
assumed  to  have  returned  to  Cos.  Whether  or  not  he  had  for  any  reason 
lost  the  favor  of  the  king  (as  is  assumed  by  Gercke)  cannot  be  stated. 
It  may  well  be  that  he  was  merely  weary  of  the  artificial  life  in  the 
great  capital;  but  in  any  case  the  evidence  that  the  poems  afford  leads 
us  once  more  to  Cos.  To  this  period  we  must  refer  the  composition 
of  Idyl  XIV,  which  as  v.  Wilamowitz  has  acutely  pointed  out,  must  be 
put  after  a  visit  to  Egypt,  the  characterization  of  Ptolemy  contained  in 
vss.  55  ff.  seems  so  clearly  based  upon  personal  knowledge.  The  passage 
also  leaves  with  one  a  strong  impression  that  Theocritus'  relations  with 
Ptolemy  had  been  such  as  to  preclude  Gercke's  assumption  of  a  break 
between  the  two. 

Here  in  Cos  falls  the  truly  productive  period  of  the  poet's  life.  He 
had  served  his  apprenticeship  in  the  earlier  period  in  Sicily,  quick,  we 
may  believe,  to  respond  to  the  beautiful  scenes  around  him :  he  had  since 


2l8  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

then  passed  through  the  hard  school  of  disappointment,  and  had  later 
had  his  horizon  broadened  by  travel  and  by  association  with  men  of 
letters  and  men  of  the  v^orld.  Sure  now  of  himself  and  of  his  art,  he 
writes  in  his  own  peculiar  vein,  with  a  vivid  sympathy  with  the  pastoral 
life  which  he  knew  and  loved  so  well;  with  his  native  dramatic  touch, 
which  vivifies  the  whole  and  makes  it  real ;  with  an  inimitable  sense  for 
language,  and  a  feeling  for  the  pathos  of  common  things ;  above  all  with 
a  sure  restraint,  and  with  that  clearness  of  outhne  which  have  marked 
him  as  the  last  of  the  Greeks  in  the  world  of  letters.  From  this  period 
and  from  Cos  date  probably  the  majority  of  the  poems  upon  which  his 
fame  rests.  The  Coan  origin  of  Idyls  II  and  VII  is  indisputable;  Idyl  I 
is  commonly  believed  to  have  been  written  in  Cos,  but  the  evidence  is 
not  entirely  conclusive.  Still  the  poem  plainly  belongs  to  the  poet's 
mature  period,  and  it  should  be  borne  in  mind  that  Sicilian  coloring  does 
not  of  itself  prove  a  poem  to  have  been  written  in  Sicily,  though  it  does 
offer  a  presumptive  ground  for  thinking  that  the  poet's  genius  developed 
under  Sicilian  influences.  Idyl  V  must  be  put  later  than  Idyl  I,  from 
which  it  borrows  a  verse ;  but  it  is  of  interest  that,  although  he  is  writing 
in  this  artificial  eastern  world,  Theocritus  lays  the  scene  of  the  Idyl  in 
southern  Italy.  Is  it  possible  that  this  Idyl  too  is  based  upon  some  sketch 
begun  in  the  early  Sicilian  period?  Idyl  III  is  on  doubtful  grounds  con- 
nected with  Cos ;  and  Idyl  IV,  on  equally  doubtful  grounds,  is  held  to  be 
later  in  date  than  Idyl  III.  We  may  well  feel  justified  in  referring  these 
poems  to  this  second  Coan  period ;  but  it  is  surely  better  in  the  case  of 
these  and  others  regarding  which  we  lack  evidence,  not  to  seek  to  prove 
too  much.  Idyl  VI  is  later  than  the  date  at  which  the  friendship  between 
Theocritus  and  Aratus  was  contracted,  and  Idyl  X  is  plainly  to  be  asso- 
ciated with  Lydia,  whence  the  Lityerses  song  comes.  This  points  natur- 
ally to  the  eastern  world,  though  it  no  more  proves  the  poem  to  have 
been  written  in  Lydia  than  the  Thyrsis  song  in  Idyl  I  proves  that  poem 
to  have  been  written  in  Sicily. 

The  epic  Idyls,  the  genuineness  of  which  may  be  accepted, — Hylas, 
Dioscuri,  Heracliscus  (XIII,  XXII,  XXIV),  with  XXV,  if  that  be 
Theocritean — may  well  all  be  late.  Hylas  is  certainly  later  than  the 
publication  of  the  Argonautica  of  Apollonius,  and  so  is  also  Idyl  VII 
in  all  probability.  For  although  Idyl  VII  looks  back  to  a  happy  day 
spent  in  Cos  on  the  occasion  of  the  poet's  first  visit  to  the  island,  it  was 
written  at  a  distinctly  later  date,  and  brings  with  it  the  flavor  of  that 
later  date. 

We  cannot  trace  the  course  of  the  poet's  life  further.     His  poetic 


THE    LIFE    OF   THEOCRITUS —  MURRAY  219 

activity  lasted  until  his  hair  was  grey  (Idyl  XXX),  but  we  have  no 
trustworthy  tradition  regarding  these  later  years  of  his  life,  or  regarding 
the  date  of  his  death.  The  dedicatory  epigrams  suggest,  if  they  do  not 
prove,  that  the  communities  of  Teos  and  Rhodes  e.g.  employed  Theocritus 
to  prepare  these  for  statues  publicly  dedicated.  It  is  of  interest  to  see 
in  the  epigram  on  Epicharmus  a  slight  evidence  that  the  people  of  his 
own  city  gave  the  poet  at  least  thus  much  of  recognition. 

This  last  fact  should  not  however  be  advanced  as  proof  that  Theocri- 
tus again  visited  Sicily.  Such  a  conclusion  is  not  warranted,  nor  were 
conditions  in  Sicily  such  as  to  attract  him.  Yet  despite  this,  and  despite 
Theocritus'  long  sojourn  in  the  east,— despite  the  fact  that  the  pastorals, 
in  their  present  form  at  least,  date  from  the  period  of  the  poet's  mature 
life,  and  were  written  in  that  learned  and  artificial  eastern  world. — it 
remains  true  that  we  owe  the  poet,  and  we  owe  his  pastorals,  to  Sicily. 
For  without  that  sympathetic  first-hand  knowledge  of  nature  and  of 
life  which  the  poet  himself  owed  to  the  fact  that  his  boyhood  and  early 
manhood  were  spent  in  that  fair  land,  they  would  not,  and  could  not  have 
been  written. 


THE  DECAY  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE  IN  THE 
THIRTEENTH  CENTURY 

Karl  G.  Rendtorff 

THK  I'KRioD  from  1 170  to  1230  marks  a  climax  in  the  development 
of  German  culture.  It  was  the  era  of  the  great  emperors  of  the 
Hohenstaufen  dynasty,  the  age  of  chivalry;  it  was  the  time  when 
Germanic  epic  poetry  found  its  culmination  in  the  Nibelungenlied ;  when 
the  court  epic  reached  its  height  in  the  works  of  Hartmann  von  der  Aue, 
Wolfram  von  Eschenbach,  and  Gottfried  von  Strassburg;  when  the 
Minnesong  flourished  and  found  its  loftiest  expression  in  the  exquisite 
songs  of  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide.  In  fact,  the  freshness  and 
strength,  the  imagination  and  idealism,  the  productiveness  and  perfect 
technique  which  characterize  the  works  of  this  period  have  caused  it  to 
be  known  as  "the  first  classical  period  of  German  literature." 

This  period  came  to  an  abrupt  end  about  the  year  1230,  and  with  it 
the  development  of  German  literature  received  a  sudden  check.  After 
all  this  wealth  of  imagination  and  vigorous  literary  activity  there  followed 
a  period  lasting  almost  three  centuries,  the  characteristic  features  of 
which  are  shallow  conventionality  and  sterility.  This  stagnation  cannot 
possibly  be  mistaken  for  a  natural  reaction  which  we  sometimes  observe 
after  a  time  of  great  literary  productiveness,  a  period  of  hibernation  so 
to  speak, — it  was  too  complete  for  that  and  of  too  long  duration.  It  was 
a  total  standstill.  If  we  were  to  represent  the  development  of  German 
literature  graphically,  the  period  after  1230  should  be  indicated  not  by  a 
downward  curve  but  by  an  abrupt  drop. 

This  complete  break  in  the  continuity  of  German  literary  thought 
and  life  has,  of  course,  not  failed  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  scholars. 
Yet  in  most  cases  they  have  been  satisfied  with  noting  the  fact ;  and, 
considering  the  importance  of  the  phenomenon,  comparatively  little  has 
been  offered  by  way  of  explanation.  And  what  little  there  is  does  not 
seem  convincing. 


'  After  the  acceptance  of  this  paper  for  the  Fliigel  Memorial  Volume,  which 
was  expected  to  appear  in  September,  1915.  Dr.  Jordan  requested  its  author's  per- 
mission to  reprint  the  paper  in  his  "War  and  the  Breed."  Owing  to  unforeseen 
delays  in  passing  the  present  volume  through  the  press,  its  appearance  here  was 
anticipated  by  the  recent  publication  of  Dr.  Jordan's  book. 


DECAY   OF   (JKKMAN    LITERATURE — RENDTORFF  221 

We  have,  in  the  main,  two  theories  diametrically  opposed  to  each 
other.  Schcrer  (Geschxchte  dcr  dcutschcn  Lxtteratur,  \).  231  )  holds 
that  the  natural  ^'rowth  of  Middle  ilif^di-dcrman  poetry  was  thwarted 
by  an  external  force,  the  church,  at  a  time  when  it  had  not  yet  exhausted 
its  resources  and  was  capable  of  devclo])ment  alon^  many  lines.  "Middle 
iiigh-German  poetry,"  he  arj^ues,  "did  not  decay  from  within,  but  was 
deprived  of  light  and  air  from  without ;  the  old  enemy  of  secular  jKjetry, 
the  German  clergy,  commenced  with  redoubled  lunver  a  new  attack  which 
was  this  time  successful  and  decisive  for  a  long  period."  This  theory 
meets  with  an  emphatic  denial  in  Bartels'  Geschxchte  dcr  dexitschcn  Lit- 
tcratur,  vol.  I,  p.  56.  liartels  believes  that  chivalrous  i)oetry  died  from 
natural  causes  at  a  time  when  it  had  completely  outlived  itself;  and  he 
attributes  this  decay  to  the  fact  "that  the  time  was  not  yet  ripe  for  a 
revival  of  literature  by  realism  or  by  an  intelligent  imitation  of  the  classi- 
cal models  of  antiquity." 

It  should  be  stated  here  that  both  Scherer  and  Bartels  have  contented 
themselves  with  merely  presenting  a  theory,  making  no  attempt  to  prove 
it.  And  it  should  also  be  stated  that  both  of  them,  at  least  in  this  connec- 
tion, take  into  consideration  the  literary  development  of  Germany  only, 
paying  no  attention  to  the  political  and  economic  conditions  of  the  time. 
Modern  science  has  taught  us  the  futility  of  trying  to  solve  problems 
while  confining  ourselves  to  the  narrow  limitations  of  one  particular 
field  of  work.  A  solution  of  this  problem  can  only  come  from  a  study 
of  its  connection  with  the  develojiment  of  German  civilization  as  a  whole. 
We  cannot  separate  the  literary  life  of  a  people  from  its  religious,  politi- 
cal, and  economic  life;  we  are  unable  to  interpret  the  literature  of  a 
I)Cople  unless  we  know  the  i)hysical,  intellectual,  and  spiritual  conditions 
which  i)roduced  it. 

What  then  was  the  social  and  intellectual  background  for  the  poetry 
of  this  period? 

German  literature  of  the  so-called  "first  classical  period"  cannot  be 
called  the  genuine  expression  of  the  soul-life  of  the  German  people,  for 
it  was  confined  almost  exclusively  to  one  class  of  the  people:  it  was  writ- 
ten by  and  for  the  small  body  of  knights,  der  Ritterstand.  It  was  a 
Standcsf'ocsic, — the  literary  expression  of  the  sentiments  of  one  exclusive 
class,  knighthood, — the  product  of  a  culture  in  which  only  a  compara- 
tively small  group  of  the  nation  participated. 

The  predominating  position  held  by  the  knights  in  the  literary  life 
of  the  thirteenth  century  is  a  startling  phenomenon.  There  is  something 
incongruous  about  the  fact  that  the  exponents  of  the  warlike  life  of  the 


222  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

nation  should  be  the  only  ones  to  voice  the  poetic  and  literary  sentiments 
of  the  people.  This  fact  can  be  accounted  for  only  when  we  realize  that 
the  Ritter stand  of  that  time  really  represented  the  pick  and  flower  of  the 
German  nation,  not  only  physically  but  intellectually  as  well,  l-'or  the 
Ritterstand  had  not  yet  become  the  exclusive  nobility  into  which  it  de- 
veloped in  later  times.  It  still  was  open  to  any  freeman  or  even  serf  who 
had  conspicuously  distinguished  himself  by  deeds  of  physical  courage 
or  by  his  mental  powers. 

This  is  not  the  place  for  a  comprehensive  or  critical  study  of  the 
rather  obscure  origin  of  knighthood.  Yet  I  wish  to  point  to  a  few  facts 
regarding  the  history  of  knighthood  that  may  help  to  prove  my  assertion 
that  it  was  the  pick  of  the  nation.  Feudal  aristocracy  of  the  middle  ages 
was  the  natural  result  of  two  leading  classes  of  the  people  growing  into 
one;  one  of  them  conspicuous  because  of  its  intelligence  and  adminis- 
trative ability,  the  other  one  distinguished  by  its  energy  and  physical 
prowess.  The  first  class  consisted  of  the  so-called  "ministeriales,"  a 
body  of  retainers  about  the  person  of  the  king,  attending  to  the  royal  serv- 
ice in  high  and  low  positions.  Because  of  their  official  position  and  their 
ability,  they  soon  gained  a  leading  part  in  the  life  of  the  nation.  They  are 
the  forerunners  of  what  still  exist  in  Germany  as  Beamtenaristokratie ; 
they  still  play  a  predominant  part  in  the  social  and  political  life  of  Ger- 
many. The  second  are  the  r'lter,  mounted  troopers  who  devoted  their  life 
to  professional  warfare;  who  came  into  existence  as  a  class  about  the 
tenth  century,  at  a  time  when  the  old  German  army,  fighting  on  foot,  and 
consisting  of  every  freeborn  German  who  could  bear  arms,  came  to  be 
supplanted  by  an  army  of  trained  soldiers  fighting  on  horseback.  These 
knights  were  the  old  freeholders,  but  after  about  1150  their  ever  decreas- 
ing number  was  supplemented  by  serfs  who  had  won  distinction  by  their 
courage.  Both  of  these  groups  were  alike  in  that  they  received  fiefs  in 
payment  of  their  services  ;  and  so,  in  the  course  of  time,  they  were  welded 
into  one.  They  formed  the  Ritterstand  with  its  peculiar  Standcskultur 
and,  as  has  already  been  stated,  with  a  Standespoesie  of  their  own.  They 
developed  their  own  code  of  honor,  their  Standeschre;  and  they  were 
supported  by  a  high-strung  self -consciousness  and  a  firm  belief  in  their 
own  value,  their  Standesbezintsstscin.  And  yet  they  were  not  altogether 
cut  off  from  the  nation  as  a  whole.  Many  of  them  had  still  recently  risen 
from  the  masses,  and  the  simple  emotions  that  swayed  the  man  of  the 
common  people  still  appealed  to  them.  Of  course,  it  is  not  to  be  assumed 
that  all  talent  and  genius  of  the  nation  was  confined  to  this  one  class ;  but 
owing  to  the  social  conditions  of  the  time,  it  was  here  only  that  the  medi- 


DECAY    f)F    (JKKMAN    LITERATURE  —  RENDTORFF  223 

eval  German  man  liad  opportunity  for  culture  and  free<lom,  that  he  could 
find  expression  for  his  individuality. 

A  very  important  fact  to  be  remembered  in  connection  with  this  is 
that  the  knights  at  that  time  were  the  only  class  of  the  German  people 
who,  separate  from  and  independent  of  the  church,  had  produced  a  cul- 
ture of  their  own  and  had,  in  contrast  to  the  pale  asceticism  of  the  church, 
developed  a  healthy  and  natural  conception  of  life  based  upon  the  national 
German  character.  The  literary  expression  of  this  new  vigorous  attitude 
towards  life  is  the  poetry  of  the  first  classical  period.  This  poetry  must, 
to  some  extent,  be  called  artificial ;  it  undoubtedly  voices  the  sentiments 
of  a  limited  class  of  the  people  only  ;  yet  it  is  a  much  truer  expression 
of  the  German  I'olksscele  tiian  we  find  in  the  literature  of  the  preceding 
centuries. 

For  ever  since  Germany  had  been  christianized,  its  literature  had 
been  in  the  hands  of  the  clergy,  and  had  only  served  the  needs  of  the 
church.  The  duty  assigned  to  art  in  all  its  phases  was  simply  to  present, 
within  narrow  limitations,  by  means  of  stereotyped  forms,  the  teachings 
of  the  church.  This  appears  not  only  in  the  literature  of  that  time  but 
also  in  all  art.  The  imagination  was  fettered  to  subjects  that  had  been 
represented  so  often  that  it  was  impossible  for  the  individual  artist  to 
exercise  originality.  Feeling  was  stifled  under  the  weight  of  mere  repe- 
tition, and  the  J'olksseele  of  the  German  people  found  no  expression  in 
art.  But  at  this  moment  the  Ritterstand  suddenly  came  forward  and 
wrested  the  art  of  poetry  from  the  hands  of  the  clergy.  The  imagination 
which  had  been  supi)ressed  and  tlistorted  so  long,  seized  upon  and  assimi- 
lated all  the  material  which  knighthood  had  gathered  in  foreign  lands,  in 
Italy  and  even  in  the  Orient,  and  where  else  the  fate  of  war  or  the  cru- 
sades had  taken  them.  It  quickly  mastered  and  even  improved  upon  the 
technique  of  its  French  models.  And  the  result  is  that  burst  of  glorious 
art  called  "the  first  classical  period  of  German  literature." 

And  now  to  return  to  our  (original  (juestion :  Why  did  all  this  glory 
vanish  so  suddenly  and  so  completely  ?  Shall  we  believe  that  the  pressure 
of  the  church  annihilated  it,  or  is  it  true  that  it  had  outlived  itself  and 
died  of  old  age? 

While  having  this  problem  in  mind  I  chanced  to  read  Secck's 
Geschichte  dcs  Unteri^an^s  dcr  antiken  Welt  (vol.  i,  270  fF.),  and  I 
was  struck  with  the  parallelism  between  the  intellectual  conditions  exist- 
ing in  Greece  and  Rome  at  the  time  of  their  decay  and  those  found  in 
Germany  toward  the  end  of  the  Hohenstaufen  dynasty,  a  period  marked 
in  Germany  by  the  rapid  decline  of  its  political  supremacy  and,  in  litera- 
ture, bv  the  abrupt  end  of  the  first  classical  period. 


224  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

I  was  interested  to  note  that  Seeck  views  the  matter  not  only  from 
the  standpoint  of  the  historian  but  also  from  that  of  the  biologist,  and 
in  this  way  reaches  conclusions  differing  very  widely  from  those  generally 
accepted.  Seeck  believes  that  intellectual  and  moral  qualities  are  trans- 
mitted by  men  to  their  descendants.  Me  attributes  the  downfall  of  the 
ancient  world  not  to  any  physical  degeneration  of  the  people  but  to  the 
intellectual  stagnation  which  was  due  to  what  he  calls  die  Ausrottung 
der  Bcsten.  This  systematic  "extermination  of  the  best"  was  caused  in 
Greece  as  well  as  in  Rome  by  the  endless  internal  conflicts  within  the 
nation,  in  which  the  nation's  best  blood  was  drained  and  people  of  less 
strength  of  body  and  mind  lived  to  propagate  the  race.  So  the  Greeks, 
whose  creative  genius  has  furnished  inspiration  for  all  times  to  come, 
rapidly  deteriorated.  Their  originality  of  thought  disappeared,  and  with 
it  their  politcal  prestige.  In  Rome  the  intellectual  decadence  is  less  strik- 
ing, for  the  Romans  had  never  reached  the  exalted  position  of  their  more 
conspicuously  gifted  neighbors.  Here  the  decadence  became  more  plainly 
discernible  in  the  political  downfall  of  the  nation.  The  Romans  became 
a  nation  of  cowards,  and  the  dacadence  set  in  just  at  the  time  when  the 
wholesale  slaughter  of  men  for  political  reasons  had  begun.  The  lack 
of  courage,  so  evident  in  the  national  life,  is  also  manifest  in  the  decay 
of  the  intellectual  life  of  that  period.  For  does  it  not  take  courage  to 
produce  a  new  thought?  is  not  every  great  deed  in  the  field  of  art  and 
science  as  much  a  proof  of  character  as  of  talent?  But  of  courage  there 
is  no  evidence.  There  is  stagnation  everywhere.  We  find  the  poet  and 
the  artist  content  with  copying  the  old  models,  or  bent  on  outdoing  the 
old  masters  by  means  of  technical  skill,  striking  motives,  or  rich  adorn- 
ments.    No  one  dared  to  enter  upon  new  fields. 

From  Seeck's  study  of  the  downfall  of  the  ancient  world  the  fol- 
lowing deductions  may  be  drawn  ■}  whenever  in  the  course  of  internal 
wars  or  revolutions  the  strong  men  of  a  people  are  systematically  exter- 


'  I  do  not  agree  with  Seeck's  theory  concerning  the  effect  of  war  upon  a 
people.  He  believes  that  while  a  systematic  extinction  of  exceptional  people  such 
as  was  carried  out  in  Greece  and  Rome  (and,  as  I  shall  attempt  to  prove  on  the 
following  pages,  in  Germany  during  the  middle  ages)  must  produce  a  race  of 
cowardly  and  mediocre  men ;  a  terrible  war  that  sweeps  over  a  nation  may  have  a 
beneficial  rather  than  a  detrimental  effect  upon  the  physical  and  intellectual  life 
of  that  nation.  His  theory  is  that  in  such  a  war  a  larger  proportion  of  the  weak 
are  killed  than  of  the  strong,  and  consequently,  while  the  number  of  people  is 
greatly  reduced,  the  average  physical  and  intellectual  strength  of  the  nation  is 
greater  after  the  war  than  before  it.  Seeck  cites  a  number  of  examples  to  prove 
his  theory,  and  claims  that  usually  a  century  or  so  after  a  destructive  war  the 
nation  bears  its  finest  intellectual  fruit. 


DECAY   OF   GKRMAN    LITERATURE  —  RENDTORFF  22$ 

minated,  even  for  a  relatively  short  period,  and  the  propagation  of  that 
race  is  thus  left  to  the  mediocre  and  the  weak,  the  inevitable  result  will 
be  the  degeneration  of  that  people,  h'or  the  proi)agation  of  a  race  is 
governed  by  the  same  inexorable  laws  of  heredity  as  are  those  which 
govern  the  propagation  of  the  individual.  And  this  degeneration  is  bound 
to  result  not  only  in  the  political  downfall  of  that  people  but  will  show 
itself  in  its  decadence  in  the  realm  of  culture.  A  people  hitherto  strong 
and  creative  will  (|uickly  become  a  race  of  epigones,  weak  and  decadent, 
without  productiveness  and  intellectual  strength,  at  best  able  to  imitate 
the  thoughts  of  their  stronger  forefathers. 

The  parallelism  between  the  ancient  world  and  Germany  during  the 
thirteenth  century  is  easily  drawn.  In  Greece  and  Rome,  as  in  Germany, 
we  find  culture  confined  to  a  limited  class  of  society.  What  we  would 
call  "the  people"  did  not  yet  contribute  to  this  culture,  nor  were  they 
directly  benefited  by  it.  In  Germany  this  limited  class  of  the  nation 
was  represented  by  knighthood,  or,  to  be  more  exact,  by  the  knights  of 
a  relatively  small  section  of  the  country,  for  the  literary  and,  to  a  large 
extent,  the  political  activity  of  Germany  was  then  concentrated  upon 
Swabia.  Havaria,  and  Austria,  while  the  North  and  the  North-east 
remained  much  less  active. 

During  the  latter  part  of  the  twelfth  and  during  the  first  half  of  the 
thirteenth  century  kiiighthood  in  these  southern  parts  of  Germany  became 
decimated,  owmg  to  the  continuous  bloody  wars  in  which  Germany  was 
engaged.  I  need  not  give  here  a  complete  review  of  the  political  history 
of  that  time,  inasmuch  as  the  historical  documents  fail  to  give  an 
answer  to  the  question  that  would  interest  us  most,  namely,  the  question 
as  to  the  loss  of  life  in  the  ranks  of  the  knights.  No  one  has  so  far  com- 
puted this  loss :  at  least  I  know  of  no  such  attempt,  and  the  histories  that 
I  have  consulted  seem  to  take  no  interest  in  this  question.  .\nd  yet  this 
loss  of  human  life  must  have  been  appalling.  And  the  knights  who  bore 
the  brunt  of  the  battles  suffered  the  greatest  loss. 

Let  me  instance  only  those  bloody  wars  which,  owing  to  their  fatal 
ultramontane  policy,  the  Hohenstaufen  dynasty  waged  in  Italy.  Again 
and  again  powerful  German  armies  crossed  the  Alps  in  order  to  crush 
the  flourishing  cities  of  northern  Italy,  especially  Milan.  Sieges  of  long 
duration,  bloody  battles,  constant  guerrilla  warfare,  a  climate  hostile  to 
the  northern  warriors,  famine  and  epidemics,  as  well  as  poison  and  the 
dagger  of  the  Italians,  did  their  work,  and  of  those  glorious  armies  only 
small  remnants  returned  to  Germany. 

Again,  religious  enthusiasm  and  the  spirit  of  adventure  induced  the 


226  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL   VOLUME 

best  and  most  energetic  among  the  German  knights  to  follow  the  sum- 
mons of  the  cross.  Thousands  of  them  ])erished  or  were  slain  on  the 
perilous  marches  through  the  deserts  of  Asia  Minor,  many  were  carried 
oflf  by  epidemics  in  the  overcrowded  Italian  ports  before  they  even  could 
embark,  while  whole  armies  were  killed  on  the  fields  of  Palestine. 

Very  great  was  the  loss  of  life  in  Germany  during  the  constant  wars 
between  the  Guelfs  and  the  Ghibellines, — wars  so  bitter  that  brother 
would  rise  up  against  brother,  and  no  mercy  was  shown.  Many  knights 
also  fell  in  the  incessant  border  wars  carried  on  against  the  Slavs  in 
the  attempt  to  regain  the  country  east  of  the  Elbe  and  to  colonize  it. 

Another  factor  largely  contributing  towards  extinguishing  the  best 
blood  of  knighthood  was  that  the  service  of  the  church  appealed  to  the 
best  and  keenest  minds  of  that  time.  For  the  higher  positions  in  the 
church  implied  not  only  the  possibility  of  doing  much  good,  but  they 
meant  honor  and  opportunity,  as  the  whole  diplomatic  service  and  most 
of  the  influential  government  positions  lay  in  the  hands  of  the  higher 
clergy-.  And,  of  course,  the  men  holding  such  church  positions  were 
forced  to  live  in  celibacy.  A  large  number  of  knights  joined  one  or  the 
other  of  the  semi-religious  orders  of  knighthood  beginning  to  flourish 
at  the  time  of  the  crusades,  and  they  too  were  forced  to  live  in  celibacy. 
Asceticism  and  the  spirit  of  renunciation  drove  many  knights  into  the 
monasteries. 

These  factors  combined,  all  of  them  working  with  a  tremendous 
destructive  force,  decimated  in  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries  the 
ranks  of  the  German  knights.  But  knighthood  did  not  lose  only  in 
numbers,  it  lost  in  quality  and  in  character.  Its  best  blood  disappeared 
and  "only  the  weaklings  remained  to  propagate  the  race."  This  was  so 
much  the  more  serious  because  the  more  stable  an  institution  chivalry 
had  become  the  more  exclusive  it  grew.  Its  ranks  were  not  replenished 
and  no  new  blood  was  infused. 

My  conclusion  then  is  simply  this:  Just  as  in  the  ancient  world, 
so  in  Germany  towards  the  end  of  the  middle  ages,  the  best  died  out, 
and,  owing  to  the  social  and  economic  conditions  existing  in  Germany 
during  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries,  "the  best"  were  the  knights. 
And  with  them  died  their  peculiar  culture,  chivalry,  as  well  as  their 
poetry,  a  flower  that  could  grow  on  no  other  soil.  I  do  not  deny  that 
other  causes,  mostly  of  economic  nature,  contributed  towards  the  decline 
of  knighthood  ;  but  the  main  factor,  I  hold,  was  the  f)hysical  degenera- 
tion brought  about  by  the  incessant  wars  of  that  period.  The  natural 
and  inevitable  consequence  of  this  physical  decay  was  the  mental  decay 


DECAY   OF   GF:RMAN    r.ITKRATURt:  —  RKNDTORFF  22/ 

of  knighthood ;  and  a  glaring  symptom  of  this  mental  decay  is  the  decline 
of  German  poetry  in  the  thirteenth  century. 

There  is  a  point  of  contrast,  however,  between  the  ancient  peoples 
and  the  Germans  of  the  thirteenth  century.  The  gap  between  the  intel- 
lectually strong  class  and  the  mass  of  the  people  was  much  wider  in 
Greece  and  Rome  at  the  time  of  their  decline  than  in  medieval  Germany. 
As  a  consequence,  with  the  extinction  of  the  best  intellects  in  Greece 
and  Rome  the  nation  as  such  suffered  a  much  greater  loss  than  Germany 
did  through  the  loss  of  its  knighthood.  In  Greece  and  Rome  it  caused 
a  lowering  of  the  intellectual  level  of  the  nation  as  a  whole  which, 
according  to  Seeck's  theory,  resulted  in  its  political  downfall;  in  Ger- 
many it  meant  only  the  extinction  of  one  class,  and  with  it  a  complete 
stagnation  of  the  literary  life  of  the  nation,  while  intellectual  pursuits 
in  other  lines  not  cultivated  by  the  knights  were  not  affected. 

Slowly  a  new  class,  the  Biirgerstand,  arose  to  take  the  place  of  the 
Ritterstand ;  and  with  the  growth  of  this  new  class  the  trades  and  callings 
which  they  had  been  following  gradually  developed  into  the  dignity  of  arts. 
Thus  architecture,  which  so  far  had  been  but  a  trade,  assumed  a  predomi- 
nant role ;  Gothic  architecture  began  to  flourish,  and  with  architecture 
there  came  the  art  of  the  sculptor  and  the  painter.  Gradually  the  burgher 
appropriated  the  field  once  preempted  by  the  knight,  and  a  new  literature, 
which  was  in  fact  the  obscure  beginning  of  modern  German  literature, 
arose.  As  I  have  stated  before,  this  new  literature  was  at  first  marked 
by  the  tendency  to  imitate  the  older  models  in  form  and  in  contents. 
The  new  poets  seemed  to  have  but  the  one  desire,  to  acquire  a  mastery 
of  the  form  and  technique  bequeathed  to  them;  and  so  bent  were  they 
upon  this  labor  that  it  left  them  no  energy  to  find  a  new  and  original 
note.  When  the  burghers  attempted  a  literary  expression  of  their  own 
life,  they  did  not  rise  above  the  commonplace ;  and  it  is  pitiful  to  see  how, 
when  they  feel  the  lack  of  imagination  and  originality,  they  borrow 
expressions  and  figures  from  their  models, — expressions  which  once  had 
a  concrete  meaning  and  value  for  chivalry,  but  which  could  mean  nothing 
to  the  poets  of  a  period  that  had  outgrown  chivalry.  They  had  not  yet 
been  able  to  find  new  poetic  values  adapted  to  their  own  way  of  thinking. 
Poetic  imagination  had  doubtless  been  concentrated  in  knighthood,  and 
when  knighthood  died  German  literature  came  to  an  abrupt  and  total 
standstill. 


PUNS  IN  CHAUCER 
John  S.  P.  Tatlock 

THE  PUN,   word-play,    paronomasia  in  medieval  literature  may  be 
traced  to  various  impulses  or  lines  of  tradition.    There  is  the  pun 
on  the   name,   like   the   words  of  the  disguised   King  Horn   to 
Rimenhild,  as  he  passes  her  the  wine-draught, 

'Drinke  to  Horn  of  home' ; 

a  primitive  universal  sort  of  quip,  which  carries  us  back  to  the  symbolism 
for  men  and  tribes  expressed  in  heraldry  ^  and  totemism,  and  the  plays 
on  names  in  the  Old  and  New  Testaments.  The  evil  suggestion  in  a 
name  may  be  used  to  point  satire,  as  in  the  first  English  petition  to  Parlia- 
ment,^ 1386,  which  attacks  Nicholas  Brembre,  of  ill  repute  in  London 
politics,  whose  name  is  a  by-form  of  our  w^ord  bramble: 

Sithen  thise  wronges  bifore  saide  han  ben  vsed  as  accidental  or 
comune  braunches  outward  it  sheweth  wel  the  rote  of  hem  is  a 
ragged  subiect  or  stok  inward,  that  is  the  forsaid  Brere  or 
Brembre. 

Puns  for  adornment,  emphasis  or  satire  grew  partly  from  the  following 
of  post-classical  and  ecclesiastical  Latin  style ;  they  had  been  more  or 
less  used  by  earlier  ancient  writers,  but  developed  in  the  so-called 
"African"  style,  and  with  the  afifectation  or  curiosity,  the  artifice  and 
unction,  of  some  of  the  church  fathers,  their  contemporaries  and  fol- 
lowers.^ Nothing  could  be  better  than  the  brilliant  stroke  at  episcopal 
avarice  in  the  Speculum  Stultorum  *  of  Nigel  Wireker,  precentor  at 
Canterbury  in  the  twelfth  century: 

Praesul  amat  marcam  plus  quam  distinguere  Marcum, 
Plus  et  amat  lucrum  quam  facit  ipse  Lucam. 

*As,  e.  g.,  in  Shakespeare's  escutcheon,  or  that  of  the  city  of  Oxford  (an  ox 
wading  through  water).  Sir  Reginald  Oakes  will  have  oak-leaves  and  acorns  on 
his  shield,  and  Sir  John  Nutting  nut-branches.  The  American  equivalent  is  the 
bookplate.  '  Morsbach,   Vbcr  d.    Ursprung  d.  ncuciigl.  Schriftspr.   175-6. 

'  Cf.  Norden,  Antike  Kunstprosa   (Leipzig,  1898),  409,  600  f.,  614,  620,  754. 

*  Satirical  Poets  of  the  Txvelfth  Century  (Rolls  Ser.  1872),  I.  106. 


PUNS    IN    CHAUCER  —  TATLOCK  229 

Even  the  simple-minded  Latin  of  the  last  line  cannot  spoil  it.  Again,  the 
pious  author  of  a  Middle  English  life  of  St.  Juliana  opined  that,  when 
paid  to  idols,  honor  rooted  in  dishonor  stood : 

pa  wcs  .  .  .  maximian  pe  modi  keiser  ine  rome  heinde  ant  heriende 
heSene  mawmez.  wi6  unmeC  muchel  hird  7  unduhti  duheCe." 

Puns  due  to  roguish  humor  or  mere  mental  activity  must  always  have 
been  common  among  people  of  agile  wits  and  no  great  culture.  The 
very  clever  author  of  the  Middle  English  Floris  and  Blanchefleur^  puns 
on  cyssan  and  cyst  (virtue)  : 

Nu  hi  cluppe^  and  cusse}? 
And  makcj?  togadere  muchel  blisse. 
If  }?er  was  ajt  bute  custe, 
Swete  biauncheflur  hit  wiste. 

Chaucer's  Erench  admirer  Deschamps  puns  repeatedly.^ 

In  Chaucer  the  pun  is  as  common,  perhaps,  as  in  other  poets  of 
humor  except  during  times  when  Euphuism  and  the  like  gave  especial 
vogue  to  artificial  wit.  Puns  serve  him  for  ridicule  and  innuendo ; 
usually  the  word  containing  the  pun  occurs  only  once,  and  something 
in  the  situation  inevitably  suggests  a  second  meaning.  He  leaves  us 
guessing  whether  or  not  the  Wife  of  Bath  had  lovers  before  she  married : 

Housbondes  at  chirche-dore  she  hadde  fyve, 
Withouten  other  companye  in  youthe." 

■*  Ed.  Cockayne   (E.  E.  T.  S.  1872),  p.  4. 

*  Ed.  Lumby  and  McKnight   (E.  E.  T.  S.   1866  and  1901),  11.  549-52. 

'As  M.  Raynaud  his  editor  points  out  (Soc.  des  anc.  textes  frang.,  IX.  285,  V. 
356,  IX.  287).  He  puns  on  imf>i'rium  and  impcjorarc  (Miroir  dc  Manage,  8816, 
and  Balade  MLXIII)  : 

£t  la  bonne  [sc.  fcmmc]   par  leur  parler 

Font  ilz  (sc.  les  menestrelz,  etc.)   bicn  en  Tcmpirc  aler. 

Alez  tuit  du  regne  en  Tempire ; 

on  froid  and  the  abbey  of  Froidevaux  (M.  dc  M.  8865)  : 
Puis  qu'il  y  a  seigneur  sanz  dame, 
L'en  treuve  hostel  de  Froitvaulx. 

Puns  and  other  word-plays  arc  not  uncommon  in  Old  French.  Ciautier  dc  Coincy 
puns  on  Marie,  tnarier;  Chretien  de  Troyes  and  Tliomas  on  amcr,  I'amer,  la  mer; 
the  latter  on  Tristan,  tristour,  etc.  Cf.  Schinz.  Publ.  Mod.  LanR.  Assoc.  XXII, 
514  fF.,  and  Warren,  Mod.  Pliilol.  III.  516-7,  526.  wlio  refer  to  other  cases. 

' Prol.  460-1.  ll'iihoutcn,  generally  meaning  'without,  means  as  well  as,  besides, 
except,  not  to  mention,  in  Troilus  and  Criseyde.  II.  236;  Havclok,  425  (E.  E.  T.  S.)  ; 
Piers  Plowman,  B-tcxt,  XIV.  237;  Lajamon's  "Brut,"  26213,  26215.  The  Wife's 
prototype  in  Lc  Roman  de  la  Rose  (13369,  Marteau's  edition)  had  had  "autre 
compaignie,"  but  perhaps  she  herself  had  not   (ll'.B.P.  4ff.). 


2^0  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL    VOLUME 

By  substituting  finesse  for  coarse  bluntness  puns  allow  much  worse 
innuendo ;  there  is  a  case  near  the  end  of  the  Shipman's  Tale, 
several  in  the  Reeve's  Tale,  and  one  toward  the  middle  of  the  Sumner's 
(containing  a  striking  piece  of  dramatic  irony).  More  decorously,  when 
the  Friar  with  jocular  pomposity  has  been  chafifing  the  Wife  of  Bath,* — 

This  is  a  long  preamble  of  a  tale!'    (IV.  B.  P.  831), 

the  Sumner  ridicules  his  academic  language, 

'What  spekestow  of  preambulacioun  ? 
What!  amble  or  trot  or  pees  or  go  sit  doun !'    (837-8). 

The  Friar  has  his  come-back  with  another  pun : 

'For  thogh  this  Sumnour  wood  were  as  an  hare, 
To  telle  his  harlotrye  I  wol  nat  spare'   (Fri.   T.    1327-8).^° 

Most  of  the  puns  in  Chaucer  are  mere  pieces  of  vivacious  humor, 
usually  unforeseen,  lightly  snapped  up  as  they  drop.  The  Clerk  has  a 
library  of  philosophy,  but  little  of  the  gold  which  should  accrue  to  the 
philosopher  in  the  cant  sense  of  alchemist  (Prol.  297-8), 

But  al  be  that  he  was  a  philosophre, 
Yet  hadde  he  but  litel  gold  in  cofifre." 

In  Troilus  and  Criseyde  there  are  a  couple  of  casual  jingles  (the  first 
being  the  only  play  on  a  name  that  I  have  noticed)  :  ^^ 

•We  should  expect  a  cheery  understanding  between  these  two.  She  is  just 
such  a  "worthy  woman  of  the  town"  as  he  is  "well  beloved  and  familiar"  with 
(cf.  Prol.  215-7,  459).  The  two  were  made  for  eachother,  as  Mr.  Percy  MacKaye 
saw,  in  his  Canterbury  Pilgrims. 

"In  fourteenth-century  English,  needless  to  say,  har-  was  pronounced  iden- 
tically in  the  two  words.  Unless  a  pun  were  intended,  harlotrye,  usually  meaning 
scurrility  or  profligacy,  was  hardly  the  word  in  the  connection,  though  the  Sumner 
is  called  a  harlvt  (or  rascal)  in  Prol.  647.  This  seems,  by  the  way,  the  earliest 
case  of  "as  mad  as  a  (March)  hare";  the  Oxford  Dictionary  cites  nothing  earlier 
than  1529,  and  Bartlett's  Familiar  Quotations  nothing  earlier  than  Skelton's  Rel>li- 
cation  against  Certain    Young  Scholars  (1.  35,  soon  after  1518). 

"  Skeat  notes  this  pun  and  that  below  from  .Sq.  T. :  "such  puns  are  not 
common  in  Chaucer,"  he  says.  He  may  also  be  right  in  seeing  one  in  Cook's  T. 
4402;    see  Munimenta  Gildhallce   London    (Rolls    Ser.    1860-2),  III,  180-2. 

"I  ignore  the  interpretations  of  St.  Cecilia's  name  (Sec.  N.  Prol.,  85-119), 
where  the  word-play  of  Brother  Jacobus'  Latin  is  lost  in  Chaucer's  translation. 


PUNS    IN    CHAUCER  —  TATUJCK  2^1 

So  whan  this  Calkas  knew  by  calculinge, 

And  eek  by  answere  of  this  Appollo   (I.  71-2); 

O  ^^od  of  love  in  sooth  we  serven  bothe. 
And,  for  the  love  of  god,  my  lady  free, 

^(says  Diomed  to  Criseyde,  v.  143-4)- 

As  the  Cook  claws  the  Reeve  on  his  back  in  tipsy  joy  over  his  tale,  he 
cries, 

'This  miller  hadde  a  sharp  conclusioun 
Upon  his  argument  of  herbergage'  (Cook's  Prol.  4328-9), 

semi-scientific  language,— 'a  sharp  experiment  on  the  subject  of  giving 
lodgings,' — a  'tough  proposition,"  in  our  similar  vernacular;  but  he  is 
thinking  also  of  the  cruel  ending  of  the  experience.  The  Squire  dis- 
claims rhetorical  skill  in  quoting  the  ambassador  from  the  king  of  Araby 
and  Ind, — 

Al-be-it  that  I  can  nat  soune  his  style, 
Ne  can  nat  climben  over  so  heigh  a  style 

(Sq.  T.  105-6)." 

The  Canon's  Yeoman  has  lost  the  bright  eyes  of  youth  poring  over  smoky 
fires  and  stinking  retorts  among  the  alchemists,  but  his  rueful  joke  refers 
as  much  to  having  been  bamboozled  out  of  his  own  and  other  people's 

money, — 

And  of  my  swink  yet  blered  is  myn  ye   (1.  730).^* 

The  most  elaborate  punning  is  in  the  Complaint  to  his  Empty  Purse: 

"  More  distinctly  a  pun  than  most  other  identical  or  punning  rhymes,  not  un- 
common in  Chaucer  and  medieval  poetry  generally,  cultivated  by  one  school  of  mod- 
ern French  poets,  but  prohibited  in  modern  English  poetry,  except  the  definitely 
comic.  Though  in  Chaucer  an  identical  rhyme  is  supposed  to  be  used  in  different 
senses  or  at  least  as  a  different  part  of  speech,  or  (if  a  suffix)  is  attached  to  a 
different  word,  there  are  numerous  cases  in  the  Man  of  Laiv's  Talc  of  complete 
identity  in  sense  as  well  as  sound.  These  are, — to  telle,  I  telle  (408.  411)  ;  that  .  .  . 
woot,  god  woot  (436,  439)  ;  in  this  wyse,  in  no  wyse  (793.  796)  ;  I  tolde,  he  him 
tolde  (^77,  880)  ;  dryving  ay.  blessed  be  she  ay  (947.  95o).  The  matter  is  not  noticed 
by  ten  Brink  {Chancers  Sprachc  u.  I'crskunst,  ^330),  whose  treatment  of  the  sub- 
ject of  rhyme  is  very  incomplete.  Chaucer,  who  was  far  from  following  Longfellow's 
exhortation  to  work  as  well  both  when  unseen  and  when  seen,  simply  put  the 
dubious  rhymes  as  far  apart  as  possible,  shunning  instead  of  courting  notice,  as 
in   the  Sq.   T.  passage.     Such  rhymes  occur  elsewhere  also. 

"The  last  phrase  of  course  means  fooled  (cf.  Rene's  Prol.  3865,  Reeve's  T. 
4049,  Mane.  T.  252). 


232  FLUGEL    MEMORIAL   VOLUME 

To  you,  my  purse,  and  to  non  other  wight 
Compleyne  I,  for  ye  be  my  lady  dere! 
I  am  so  sory  now  that  ye  be  Ught ; 
For  certes,  but  ye  make  me  hevy  chere, 
Me  were  as  leef  be  leyd  upon  my  here. 

His  purse  is  his  lady,  naturally  he  would  not  have  her  light;  but  how 
astonishing  that  a  courtly  lover  should  wish  the  green  grass  growing 
over  him  unless  she  made  him  heavy  cheer!  The  most  delightful  and 
the  most  natural  pun  in  Chaucer  is  among  the  professional  glibnesses 
of  the  Sumner's  friar.  Dearer  to  God  are  the  prayers,  says  he,  of  the 
abstemious  mendicant  than  those  of  the  gluttonous  laity: 

Tro  Paradys  first,  if  I  shal  nat  lye, 
Was  man  out  chaced  for  his  glotonye ; 
And  chaast  was  man  in  Paradys,  certeyn' 

(Sumn.  T.  1915-7). 

Chased  out,  and  chaste  in,  what  a  beautiful  thought!  Of  course  the 
friar  does  not  know  he  is  punning,  it  is  merely  the  way  his  mind  works. 
One  often  hears  modern  priests  zigzag  along  in  the  same  desultory  course, 
at  the  mercy  of  casual  association.^^ 

"  A  pun  involves  two  completely  separate  meanings,  not  meanings  which  shade 
into  each  other.  Therefore  there  are  no  such  puns  as  a  modern  might  suspect 
where  flattering  Placebo  {Merch.  T.  1513-5)  congratulates  poor  old  January  on  the 
high  spirit  he  shows  in  choosing  a  young  wife,— "it  is  an  heigh  corage" ;  or  where 
it  is  said  of  the  Sumner, 

In  daunger  hadde  he  at  his  owne  gyse 

The  yonge  girles  of  the  diocyse, 

And  knew  hir  counseil,  and  was  al  hir  reed  {Prol.  663-5). 

Power,  power  to  harm,  liability  to  be  harmed,  shade  into  each  other,  and  the  last 
meaning  is  somewhat  modern.  In  danger  the  young  people  truly  were,  but  the  dan- 
ger was  not  from  him.  When  one  remembers  over  what  cases  the  church  courts 
had  jurisdiction  (cf.  Fri.  T.  1302),  and  the  devious  methods  of  the  sumners  (Prol. 
649  flF.,  Fri.  T.  1323  ff.),  it  is  clear  that  this  worthy  spied  out  young  men  and  women 
between  whom  scandal  was  brewing  and  then  levied  blackmail  on  them.  But  some- 
thing like  a  pun  may  possibly  underlie  one  of  the  chief  cruxes  of  the  Prologue 
(1.  670)  ;  why  "gentle  Pardoner  of  Rouncivaf'f  Skeat's  answer  (that  he  was  con- 
nected with  the  Hospital  of  the  Blessed  Mary  of  Rouncyvalle  near  Charing  Cross) 
is  unlikely,  if  not  impossible.  Rouncival  in  the  sixteenth  century  meant  a  mannish 
woman,  and  the  Pardoner  is  a  womanish  man  (688  ff.).  Routicy  means  a  riding 
horse,  and  the  Pardoner  is  called  "a  gelding  or  a  mare."  The  passages  are  not 
close  together,  so  I  feel  no  confidence  in  this  suggestion.  But  there  may  be  some 
such  forgotten  point. 


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DATE     DUE 


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^26  720 


